There Ain't No Me If There Ain't No You
by genevra1676
Summary: The boys have spent the past 2 months hunting, trying to recover from Dean's assault & re-emergence of his Hell memories, and trying to find out how to stop the Apocalypse. But they've just learned of a way to defeat Lucifer from an unlikely source, so it's time to assemble Team Free Will and figure out how to save the world their way . . . Part 3 of THE MONSTER THAT YOU KNOW
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

" _Sam, Dean. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, if you're watching this, I'm dead. Oh please! Stop sobbing, it's embarrassing for all of us._

" _Without me, you've got zero shot at killing Lucifer. Sorry! But you_ can _trap him. The Cage you sprung Lucifer from? It's still down there. And maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in. Not that it'll be easy. You gotta get the Cage open, trick my bro back into it. And uh, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey, details, right?_

" _And here's the big secret, Lucifer himself doesn't even know—the key to the Cage? It's out there. Actually it's keys, plural. Four keys, well, four rings. From the Horsemen. You get 'em all, you got the Cage._

" _Can't say I'm betting on you boys. But, uh, hey! I've been wrong before. And Dean, you were right. I_ was _afraid to stand up to my brother. Not anymore. So this is me, standing up._ "

I quickly turned off the DVD before we saw more of the archangel that either of us ever wanted. We both stared at each other dumbfounded for several moments. Then Dean broke into a huge grin and gave me an enthusiastic kiss.

" _Yahtzee_! This is what we've been searching for all this time! Horsemen, huh? Well, we got War's, and we nicked Famine's. That's two down. All we need is Pestilence and Death," he said.

"Oh, is that all?"

"Hey, it's a plan. It's a hell of a lot more than we had ten minutes ago," he pointed out.

"You're right. Let's get a few hours' sleep, then head to Bobby's. We need to tell him all this and then figure out what to do next."

"Yeah, 'bout that? We ain't staying in this dump. I can smell the fucking bathroom from here, and I'm pretty sure those sheets are gonna give you some kinda STD if we lay down on 'em." His lips were drawn back, his expression similar to that of a cat reacting to a strong odor.

I looked around the motel room and noticed it was pretty scuzzy, even by our standards. I shuddered as something scuttled along the baseboard near the bed.

"Okay, this place _is_ vile. But thanks to those gods' meddling, every other motel or hotel in Muncie and the surrounding area is full or has burst pipes or something. Are you really up for driving until we find someplace better? We haven't gotten any rest all night."

"Yeah, I'll be fine for another hour or two. Besides, my Baby won't let anything happen to us."

I sighed as I repacked my laptop, not looking forward to more time in the car tonight. We dumped our bags back in the trunk and peeled away from the motel. As much as I wanted to fall asleep in the passenger seat, I forced myself to stay awake in case my brother nodded off.

It turned out, though, that there was no need for concern. Dean drove steadily, humming and drumming the steering wheel along to his tape of _The Black Album_. I smiled to myself as I watched him, enjoying this small sign of normalcy—one which had been sadly lacking lately.

Dean had been assaulted by another hunter nearly two months ago, and the trauma of the attempted rape was compounded by the re-emergence of suppressed memories of years of torture and gang-rape in Hell. It'd been pretty bad initially, with my brother exhibiting many of the symptoms of PTSD, including lack of interest in things that used to give him pleasure. However, his mood and demeanor had steadily improved ever since he'd killed Zachariah and rescued our half-brother Adam. Seeing him enjoying his music again was an indicator that maybe he was beginning to recover.

We drove until we were almost at the Illinois border before stopping to rest. I shook my head a little as Dean pulled into the Grotto Motel and got us a room. His knack for finding the quirkiest motel possible wherever we stopped was like some freaky, useless superpower. Our room looked like _Finding Nemo_ had exploded all over it—sand-colored carpet, aqua walls, kelp-patterned curtains, tables shaped like coral and décor shaped like sea creatures, and brightly colored fish festooning the wallpaper border and shower door. But it seemed quite clean, and the bed was surprisingly soft despite the ridiculous clamshell design.

We wordlessly undressed and curled around each other under the seashell-printed sheets. I was still grateful that the aversion to touch my brother had developed since the attack didn't extend to me. Instead he was often almost desperately eager for my affection, as if seeking assurance that my feelings hadn't changed. I pulled him into my arms and exchanged a few slow kisses as we settled in. I watched him fall asleep before drifting off myself.

It was close to noon by the time we woke up the next day. I was pleased we'd gotten through the remainder of the night undisturbed. Dean had been plagued by nightmares after the assault, sometimes waking up two or three times in one night, shaking and sweating. It had taken some coaxing initially to get him to open up about the dreams, but he eventually realized that trying to repress the Hell memories hadn't really worked when he first got out and wouldn't work now either. The things that had been done to him there were often horrific beyond my worst imagining, and there were times I had to go off afterwards to throw up or break down. Fortunately, the frequency of his nightmares seemed to have dropped since the confrontation at Van Nuys.

I awoke first and was immediately aware of a throbbing erection. I carefully slid out of bed to not disturb my still-sleeping brother and quietly crept into the bathroom to deal with the problem. I'd been finding myself frequently needing to slip away to masturbate, because while my upstairs brain understood why Dean had lost interest in sex recently, my downstairs brain was not coping well with the current famine after the previous weeks of feasting.

I turned on the sink faucet to cover up any tell-tale noises and slicked my hands up with lotion. As I stroked myself rapidly, I imagined sinking into the tight heat of my brother's passage and thrusting against the rocking of his hips. My hands sped up to a furious pace at the thought of feeling his inner walls flexing around my cock and clenching as he climaxed. I tried to stifle my moans as I spurted all over my hands and the counter.

I hurriedly wiped the counter clean and washed my hands. I then left the bathroom and stealthily returned to the bed. Before I could get in, Dean rolled over and blinked drowsy green eyes at me.

"Hey, Sammy. What time is it?"

"Sorry, man, didn't mean to wake ya. I think it's almost eleven-thirty."

"'Sokay. We gotta get outta here soon anyways." He got up and stretched, then eyed me. "I've told you before, you don't hafta sneak around when you need to rub one out. I ain't gonna freak out."

"I know, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable . . ."

"I appreciate the thought, dude, but I don't expect you to go fucking cold turkey just 'cause I'm screwed up right now. Though hopefully this won't last for much longer." He placed a hand along the side of my face and gave me a kiss that felt more than simply affectionate.

He pulled away before the kiss went anywhere too exciting and ducked into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he stuck his head through the doorway and asked, "You wanna join me in the shower?"

I knew not to read too much into this, but this was the first invitation for anything even remotely intimate since before the assault. I responded, "Sure, Dee. Just give me a minute to brush my teeth first."

I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face before stepping into the tub-shower combo. Dean smiled up at me as I lathered up a washcloth and rubbed it across the freckled skin of his broad shoulders and chest. I frowned a little as I slid the soapy cloth down his ribs. We'd been wearing t-shirts and underwear to bed recently, so this was the first time I'd seen my brother completely naked in a while.

"Looks like you've lost some weight," I said.

"Huh. Guess I haven't been paying attention to what I've been eating lately." He looked down at himself. "It doesn't look bad, does it?"

"Don't worry, you're still gorgeous." I kissed him reassuringly before continuing. "But with your metabolism, it wouldn't take much to go too far. I don't want you to get sick."

"I'll try to be more careful." He wrapped his arms around me and rested his head on my chest. "You're too good to me, Sammy."

"Not _that_ good—I should've noticed this sooner."

He lifted his head and gazed at me fiercely. "Hey, don't start that! It ain't your fault I'm such a hot fucking mess! You've been doing an awesome job taking care of me, and I don't want you thinking any differently."

"Okay, okay!" I kissed the smaller man again before reapplying more soap to the washcloth.

We took turns washing each other off before the hot water ran out. I was thrilled to see that my brother was half-hard by the time I finished soaping him up, but I didn't try anything further. Even if I thought he was really ready for anything sexual, I didn't want to take that next step in a crummy motel (even if this place was a bit better than our usual stop). Instead, I listened to him purr contentedly as I rubbed shampoo into his dark gold hair and rinsed it off.

Dean caught my wrist as I stepped out of the tub when our shower was done. "You don't wanna . . . ?" He gestured towards both of our groins, since I was more than half-erect.

I tugged him out of the tub and wrapped a towel around him before replying. "You know I'd like nothing better than to make love to you again. But I don't want to push too fast. And I think it'd be better for both of us to be someplace we're more comfortable in."

He looked around the bathroom and chuckled. "Maybe you're right. It'd be weird trying to get in the mood with Dory staring at my damn ass the whole time."

"I know, right? We'll have plenty of opportunities to see what you're up for when we're at Bobby's. And without worrying about the decorations breaking into 'Under the Sea!'"

After we dressed and checked out of the motel, we pulled into a diner to grab lunch. I slid into the seat next to Dean instead of sitting across from him in the booth. I'd noticed before that he was calmer when I put myself between him and any strangers.

After we put in our orders, I asked, "So, do you think Gabriel is really dead?"

My brother looked up from shredding his straw wrapper. "I dunno. How many times have we thought we'd killed him, only to have him pop up again? And that was when we thought he was only a Trickster."

"I agree—we haven't seen the last of him. But I don't think we can expect any more help from him. Giving us that message in the DVD was his last move in this fight."

"Having an archangel on our side woulda been fucking awesome. But hey, when have we ever had things easy? Still, at least now we got something we can actually work with."

"By the way, how much are we going to tell Adam? Particularly about you and about us? We didn't have much of a chance to talk with him after Van Nuys, but it's going to be unavoidable now," I said.

"Well, I ain't gonna lie to him. The kid's family, the only one we got left now besides Bobby and Cas. Trying to hide the truth from him before got him and his mom eaten, and he deserves better. So we tell him the real deal 'bout what's going down and let him decide if he wants to stay outta it.

"I figure I'll tell him 'bout me when it seems right. It's gonna come out anyways if he listens in when we start planning with Bobby, 'cause I figure we're gonna need to take advantage of _all_ our abilities to take Lucifer down.

"As for _us_ , I don't think it's something we should just drop on him, but I ain't gonna hide either. Bobby's house is the only place where we can really be ourselves, and I ain't letting anyone fucking take that from us, not even our new kid brother. So if he finds out, he finds out, and he'll hafta learn to deal with it."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to get him involved in all this? He's just a civilian," I pointed out.

"Adam's already involved whether he likes it or not, thanks to that asshat Zachariah. And he's the son and brother of hunters, so he's never gonna be safe if he's kept in the fucking dark. He doesn't hafta help us if he doesn't wanna, but he _will_ learn enough to protect himself," the other man said firmly.

Our food showed up at that point. After depositing the plates in front of us, our waitress, a handsome brunette in her early forties, examined both of us with obvious interest.

"I haven't seen either of you around here before. You boys new to the area?" she asked, her eyelashes fluttering.

I felt a pang as Dean stiffened beside me. I'd never particularly liked it before when he flirted with other people, but I understood that to him it was merely a harmless way to have fun. To see something he used to enjoy now make him so uneasy saddened me.

Before the waitress could notice my brother's reaction, I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and replied, "Sorry, my boyfriend and I are just passing through. We're on our way to visit family in Sioux Falls."

"Oh, too bad. Well, you let me know if you need anything." With that, she moved away.

Dean slumped and leaned his head on my shoulder. "Man, I fucking _hate_ this!"

"It's okay, Dee. This is just going to take time." I pressed a kiss to his temple soothingly. "And you're already doing a lot better now than you were a couple months ago."

"It's still fucking frustrating! Though I suppose you don't mind the end result, Mr. Green-Eyes."

"If you decided to stop hitting on everything that moves out of your own choice, sure. But not like _this_ , you know that," I said a bit stiffly.

"Hey, I was just teasing, Sammy! I know you better than that. Wasn't I telling you earlier how much I appreciate you helping me deal with all this shit?"

"You're right, and I'm sorry. I suppose I should be glad you can joke about any of this! Well, let's finish up quickly and get out of here. We'll both feel better when we're back at Bobby's."

To my relief, he polished off everything on his plate with evident enjoyment. For as much as I used to tease him about his unhealthy eating habits, he never seemed to put on excess weight, lending credence to his claim of a faster than normal metabolism. Though I still wanted to take him to get a full physical to make sure his diet wouldn't eventually lead to an early heart attack. Maybe when this was all over, I'd take him back to Dr. Choi and see what tests she could discreetly run.

Dusk had fallen by the time we pulled into the salvage yard. Bobby greeted us on the porch with salted holy water as always, though this time I was the only one who had to cut himself with silver. Our half-brother Adam watched from the doorway, and his eyebrows rose when Bobby didn't pass the silver knife to Dean.

"You boys eat yet?" Bobby asked. After we both shook our heads, he gestured towards the kitchen. "Come on in then. Figured you two would show up hungry, so I didn't bother putting everything away yet. We've got plenty of fried chicken, corn, mashed potatoes, and biscuits left, courtesy of the Colonel."

"Sounds awesome, dude!" Dean eagerly loaded up a plate, which I was happy to see.

Bobby kept the conversation relatively light while we were eating, asking about the regular hunts we'd been on since he'd seen us last. Once our fingers and plates were licked clean, however, he said, "Leave the dishes for later. You said you had something big to tell me when you called on the way here."

"Lemme see if I can get a hold of Cas first, so we don't hafta explain everything twice. Why don't you guys get comfy in the study until I get back," Dean suggested before going outside.

"Might as well clean up while we're waiting. Adam, care to help me out?" I asked.

He nodded and grabbed the cartons off the table. While he put the food away, I started rinsing off the dishes and silverware. We worked in silence for a few minutes, and then I turned to him. "Have you been doing okay here?"

Adam shrugged. "For the most part, I guess. Bobby's been pretty nice, and he's tried explaining some of this supernatural stuff to me. But I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing now. Everyone back home thinks I'm dead, right? So I can't just go back to my old life. And apparently I'm not really supposed to fight the Devil either—I was just bait to trap Dean."

"Believe me, this is the safest place for you right now. Zachariah may be dead, but Michael has plenty of other goons that won't hesitate to hurt you to get to us. But Bobby has this house warded six ways to Sunday, so nothing can get you in here. And once this is over, we can see what we can do. Maybe figure out some way to prove you're not legally dead, or set you up with a new identity somewhere. You've just got to sit tight until then."

Dean came back inside then, followed by Castiel. We all went into the study, where Bobby had tumblers of "hunter's helper" poured. Dean and I sat together on the bed in the bay window, while Adam took one of the armchairs. Cas remained standing, looking more awkward than usual. He had a talisman that allowed him to pass through the angel-proofing on the house, but being surrounded by the Enochian wards still made him uncomfortable.

Once everyone was settled, Bobby put his glass down. "Alright, so what's the big deal?"

"We think we have a way to deal with Lucifer. Not to kill him, but to trap him back in the Cage," I answered. "We ran into Gabriel last night."

"A buncha other gods had this Hotel California thing going on, with the main goal being to trap us and then use us as fucking bargaining chips or some shit," Dean added.

"Wait, other gods?" Adam looked confused.

"Yeah, Mercury, Odin, Baldur, Kali, Ganesh, Baron Samedi, and some other weird dudes like that. Most of 'em weren't very fucking impressive—too busy squabbling or trying to snack on the human guests."

"I thought they were just myths!"

"No, they're all quite real. Most of them aren't very powerful now, relatively speaking, because not too many people worship the Greek, Norse, or Egyptian pantheons any more. But they're still around," I said. "Anyways, Gabriel showed up in the guise of Loki and helped us get out of there. Before we left, he gave us a message—that the Cage is still out there, and it's possible to put Lucifer back in it. To open it, we need four keys—specifically, the rings of the four Horsemen."

Cas spoke up. "Where is my brother now?"

"Sorry, Cas, but I don't think he made it. Lucifer showed up at the hotel and killed most of the gods. Gabriel distracted him long enough for us to escape, but he never came out," I told him.

"But hey, we're also talking 'bout the damn Trickster here. Faking his own death is the dude's fucking specialty. So he could still be out there, man," Dean pointed out.

The angel appeared troubled. "I suppose we will have to wait and see if he re-emerges. I assume though that even if he survived, he is unlikely to help us further."

"That's what we figure too. If he does show up before this is all over, great, but we shouldn't count on it," I responded.

"Sounds like the next step is to figure out where Pestilence and Death are so we can nab their rings," Bobby said. "You two got real lucky running into War and Famine on what you thought were regular hunts, but we can't rely on that again. Especially with all the chaos Lucifer is causing—we could waste months trying to sift out reports on what might be the Horsemen's activities versus what's him or his other flunkies."

"I may have an idea about that," I said. "I suggest we summon Crowley, the demon who gave us back the Colt. It's in his best interests to help us again if he still wants Lucifer gone, and as the supposed 'King of the Crossroads,' he has access to all sorts of information."

"Assuming we can trust the smarmy sonofabitch! Last time all his damn intel did was get Ellen and Jo killed," Dean objected. His anger now was a relief compared to the early days after the assault, when any mention of demons or Hell was liable to trigger a flashback.

"Of course we don't trust him—he's a fucking demon! But we can slap a truth spell on him when we summon him, and this time we verify anything he gives us before we act on it. Unless anyone has another suggestion?" I looked around the room.

"Though I am loath to work with a demon, I have to agree with Sam. This Crowley is more likely to have the knowledge we need than anyone else," Cas said. "If there is anything you require for the rituals, I can try to procure it for you. I am still not at full strength, so I am limited in how much I can travel."

"I'll check my supplies and let you know," Bobby said. "But, assuming this demon actually can get us the locations, getting the rings is only the first half of the problem. We still gotta figure out how to get to Old Scratch and then shove him back in his hole."

"Well, I've got the beginnings of a plan for that. But . . . uh, you ain't gonna like parts of it." Dean rubbed the back of his neck before continuing.

"First we find someplace where there'll be no risk of collateral damage if things go sideways, and we ward the crap outta it to prevent any damn angelic or demonic party-crashers. Then we lure fucking Lucifer there with what he wants most right now—Sam. Tell him that you're considering saying, 'Yes' and wanna talk to him. Only the you that'll meet him in the spot we've prepared won't be _you_ —it'll be me."

"How is that any better than Sam risking himself, ya damn fool?" Bobby demanded. "You'll be virtually identical to your brother at that point, so what's to stop Lucifer from trying to wear _you_ to the prom?"

"Remember when we had that discussion on how could I be the Michael Sword despite what I am? You both tried to convince me that it was more than just my genes, but also who I was and what I've done that qualifies me to be his vessel. Well, the same shit applies here. Even if I shift into Sam, I'm still me underneath, and I'm no more Satan's perfect fucking bitch than Adam here is Michael's. And even if he still tries, possession ain't instantaneous, and I can shift back to me or into someone else faster than he can take me over."

"That's not the only problem with this, though," I said. "What about the reasons why you don't want to shift into someone else, like how the other memories and personality mess you up?"

My brother put his hand against my face and looked straight into my eyes. "This would be different. There's nothing 'bout you that could hurt me, Sammy."

"Hold on, what are you guys talking about? How can Dean turn into Sam?" Adam interjected.

Dean turned away from me and sighed. "I'm sorry we never had a chance to discuss this before, kid. To put it bluntly, I ain't human—I'm a shapeshifter. I can take on the form and memories of anyone I've touched."

"You—you mean like the things that—that killed me and my mom?" Our half-brother looked alarmed.

"Hell no! Ghouls can only take on the shape of their last victim. And I don't fucking _eat_ people!"

"Shifters aren't inherently evil," I added. "But most of them are still dangerous because they're mentally unstable, usually due to a combination of an alienated childhood and being unable to handle all the extra memories. Dean's different, though, because he was brought up by someone who accepted what he is, and he avoids taking on other people's forms and the baggage than comes with them."

"So you're not really my brother then?"

"No, I am—maybe not by birth, but definitely by blood and by upbringing. There _was_ a Dean Winchester born to John and Mary four years before Sam, but he died the same night Mom was killed. A few months later, Dad found me on a hunt and got me to take on his dead kid's identity. I've been Dean for nearly twenty-seven years now, and it's not just some damn cover—it's who I _am_. I was raised as John's son and Sam's brother, and that means I'm your brother too," Dean said firmly.

"And the rest of you are just okay with this?"

"Damn straight! I helped raise your brothers, and they're both good men. It don't matter than Dean ain't human. He's still the same guy who stuck his neck out and saved your damn life, so don't you forget that!" Bobby replied.

"I too am more than 'okay' with Dean," Cas added. "I rescued him from Hell because he is the Righteous Man, regardless of his species. And being his friend taught me to think for myself and decide what is truly right."

"So, we all clear 'bout this, kid?" Bobby asked, then waited for Adam's tentative nod. "Now, to get back on target—is there more to this plan of yours?"

"Yeah, there is. But this is the part you're _really_ not gonna like. My task's gonna be to distract Lucifer, keep him too busy to notice anyone else there. Sam's job will be to toss down the rings, open the door to the Cage, and push the bastard in." Dean hesitated. "Thing is . . . in order to do all that, especially without getting caught . . . uh, he's gonna hafta use his powers."

"Now, I _know_ you don't mean for your brother to start drinking demon blood again, right?"

"Of course not, Bobby! That last detox nearly fucking killed him! Ain't no way I'd put him through _that_ shit again."

I found my voice after gaping at my brother. "But Dean, dude, you know I haven't been able to use my abilities on my own since we killed Azazel. I've only been able to do stuff since then when I'm on demon blood, and even then it's been limited to exorcising and sometimes killing demons."

"I don't think that's entirely true, man. You didn't _wanna_ use 'em after Yellow-Eyes, so they went dormant. But they've still been there. Remember what that bitch Ruby said at the end, that it wasn't the blood, that it was you the whole time? And . . . and there's more."

"What do you mean?"

Dean hesitated again before responding. "You've always smelled a little different than other people. When we were younger I didn't know what it meant—just thought it was a part of you. I noticed it was stronger when we started hunting again after Stanford, when you were having the fucking visions and shit. But it wasn't until we met Max and Andy and the other 'special' kids that I started to figure it out, 'cause they had the same scent. After we ganked Azazel, that difference in your scent lessened, back down to like when you were a kid, but it never went away. It did get stronger again when you were hooked on that damn skank's blood."

"So, what—I smell like a fucking _demon_ or something?" My skin began to crawl.

"No, no, nothing like that! It ain't really a _bad_ scent. You kinda smell like that Jesse kid, though not as strong," he hastily explained. "Though you were starting to stink like a possessed guy when you were hopped up on fucking demon blood. I shoulda realized sooner what was going on then, but I thought the sulfur odor I kept running into was just part of the damn Hell flashbacks, ya know?

"Anyways, 'cause your scent's always been like that, I think what the Yellow-Eyed Demon did to you and the others when you were babies _changed_ you. Your powers are a permanent part of you, whether you use 'em or not. So you should be able to draw on 'em again, even without demon blood or shit like that."

"Dean is correct," Castiel said. "Azazel was a Prince of Hell, one of the first demons created and one of Lucifer's great generals. His blood was potent enough that even a small amount fed to you when you were a malleable infant was enough to alter you on a fundamental level. You have not been entirely human since you were six months old, Sam. The demon blood you ingested last year amplified the change, but you do not require it to access your abilities."

"Oh God! Dean, why didn't you ever _tell_ me?" I cried.

"Like I said, for the longest time I didn't _know_ that your scent meant anything. By the time I did, you were already worried that you were gonna turn into Dark Willow and hafta be put down, and _no fucking way_ was I gonna add to that. And there really was no good time after that to bring it up. You were so relieved when your damn powers went away after Yellow-Eyes' death, and I didn't wanna ruin that. There wasn't any point in telling you when you were with Ruby if it didn't get you away from the bitch. Then you were _so_ down on yourself afterwards, and telling you woulda only made you feel shittier. Besides, if I tried to tell you before, I woulda had to tell you _how_ I knew."

"What about after I found out about you? What happened to not keeping secrets from each other?"

"I wasn't _intentionally_ trying to keep it a secret at that point, I really wasn't! To be honest, I'd pushed it to the back of my mind a while back, since there wasn't anything I could fucking do 'bout it. It wasn't until when we were driving here today, and I was trying to think of how to use the rings, that I remembered the damn thing. You gotta believe that I'd never hide something like this from you on purpose, not anymore!" My brother looked at me pleadingly.

"I—I've got to get some air!" I stood and staggered out of the room and through the front door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I stumbled off the front porch and made my way into the salvage yard. I ended up bracing my hands on a rusty engine block and leaning over as I desperately tried to catch my breath. I felt sick, and it took effort not to give in and vomit.

I no longer expected to be _normal_ , not after everything that had happened. But to know that the demon who'd destroyed our family had _permanently_ contaminated me, that his taint hadn't ended with his death liked I'd hoped? And that I then managed to worsen the corruption by voluntarily ingesting more of the same filth? Though really, this was no more than what I deserved for my arrogance and willful blindness, for hurting everyone I cared about and releasing the worst evil imaginable . . .

Before my thoughts could spiral down further, I heard footsteps come up behind me. A pair of strong arms wrapped around my chest, and I felt a cheek press against the nape of my neck.

"I know what you're thinking, and that shit ain't true," my brother told me. "This _doesn't_ make you evil. You're still the same guy you've always been, Sam. And that guy is a _good_ man, one who's always trying to help people, always trying to make things right. The guy who means everything to me, and who I wouldn't change for anything. Remember what you've been telling me the past few months—just 'cause you ain't human, it don't mean you're a monster."

"This isn't the same! From what you've been telling me, I'm part _demon_! We might've met vampires and other supernatural creatures who weren't monsters, but there's never been a _good_ demon!" I dropped my head further.

"And every shifter we've ever heard of has been a fucking psycho, but we ain't worried that I'm gonna go on a homicidal rampage someday, right? Listen to me, Sam. This crap has been part of you since you were a baby, but you've _never_ turned. Not even the worst shit that yellow-eyed sonofabitch threw at you made you even think 'bout going Dark Side. When Dad told me I might hafta kill you if I couldn't save you, I was pissed at him for saying it, for trying to lay something like that on me. But I never doubted you, not even for a _second_. Even the shit with Ruby I knew was 'cause she had you bamboozled, not 'cause you'd gone rogue.

"And these abilities mighta originally come from a demon, but it doesn't mean they hafta be evil. It's how you use 'em that makes 'em bad or good. After all, angels' powers are supposed to be all holy and crap, but we've seen 'em do some nasty fucking shit. If we can use what we are and what we can do to _end_ this, to stop the Apocalypse and put the Devil back where he belongs, then we've done _good_. D'ya get what I'm saying, baby boy?" Dean's arms tightened around me.

I brought my hands up and wrapped them around his. "I guess so. It's going to take a while to not be freaked out about it though. And do you really think I can use my powers without the blood?"

"You just need practice. Think of how much shit that crazy Ava chick did at Cold Oaks, 'cause she _worked_ on it. With enough training, you should be able to use 'em without the debilitating headaches or needing the threat of my head fucking getting blown off as motivation. Now, d'ya think you can handle going back inside and finish talking to everyone, kiddo?"

"I'm not sure. What if the others—"

He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around to look me in the eyes. "They're not gonna treat you any different. Cas' known this whole time, and it hasn't stopped him from being your friend. Bobby's accepted me being a fucking shifter and us being together on top of all the other crazy, stupid shit we've done, so d'ya really think this is gonna bother him? And if Adam wigs out, it's only 'cause he doesn't know you. It's gonna be okay, Sammy."

I met his steady green gaze. "Alright, Dee. Let's go in."

He grabbed my hand and led me back into the house and into the study. We resumed our seats on the bed, and I felt awkward as everyone's attention centered on me.

Bobby gave me a concerned glance. "Feeling any better, kid?"

"A little. Dean tried talking some sense into me, but this is going to take some time to accept."

"I'd be more surprised if this didn't upset you, Sam. But you know we're all here for you, right?" Bobby waited until I nodded before continuing. "Now I assume this plan of your brother's requires you to learn how to control your telekinesis, rather than relying on adrenaline like with that Miller kid."

"That, and if he can drum up something like what Andy could do, to basically Jedi mind-trick Lucifer into thinking he's not there," Dean added.

"The big question is, _can_ I even use these powers now?" I asked. "They were only active when Azazel started working on his scheme to turn us into his demonic army. Without him around, and without resorting to more demon blood, what if they stay dormant?"

"With the proper training, you should be able to access your abilities on your own," Cas stated. "Azazel forced them into operancy before, but you had no control over them. You must learn to command them without his presence or the crutch of demon blood."

"Well, then he's gonna need a teacher. Which means bringing in a trained psychic," Bobby said. "Our best bet probably is Missouri Moseley, assuming we can get her to come here from Kansas. If not, I can try to call in a favor or two and see if we can rustle someone else up. And I think you're gonna need training too, Dean."

Dean looked startled. "Whaddya mean, me too? I dunno that I'll gain access to Sam's powers when I take his shape. Even if I do, I'll have his memories on how to use 'em."

"I ain't talking 'bout that. The way I see it, shapeshifters must have some level of telepathy to be able to take on the memories of the person they're mimicking. So we need to find out if you can do more with it, particularly if you can learn to hide your thoughts. 'Cause your cunning plan ain't gonna amount to a hill of beans if Lucifer reads your mind and figures out you ain't really Sam," Bobby replied.

"Huh, I hadn't thought of that!"

"Yeah, I guess that's why they pay me the big bucks. Oh wait, no one does!" the older hunter said sarcastically. "You kids finish cleaning up my kitchen and then go to bed or something. I gotta see what we're gonna need to summon Crowley tomorrow and send Cas out to get whatever's missing."

Dean and I dragged our dazed half-brother into the other room. While I started in on the remaining dishes, Dean pushed Adam into a seat at the kitchen table, pulled another bottle of whiskey from a cabinet, and set it beside him.

"You still with us, man? You look like someone smacked you upside the head with a frying pan," Dean said as he began wiping the table down.

Adam knocked back a slug straight from the bottle. "It's just _so_ much to take in! I'd suspected for a while that there was something off with Dad's cover story, like why he could never plan his visits ahead or why we couldn't visit him. But I never would've guessed that all the stuff from fairy tales and horror movies was real!

"Then I find out I've got two brothers I never knew about, and that we're all involved in some epic showdown straight out of the Bible. And the latest kicker is that one of my brothers is really some kind of shapeshifting monster and the other is somehow part-demon. Do you _ever_ get used to this?"

Dean snorted as he moved on to cleaning the countertop. "We've been doing this most of our lives, and even _we're_ not used to all this crazy shit. Sorry you got pulled into this mess, dude, but unfortunately normal ain't part of the Winchester wheelhouse. But at least you're alive again and can do something more with your life. And you _do_ still have family, even if it ain't all exactly human."

"I _do_ appreciate being back. _And_ that you guys stuck your necks out to rescue me, even though you don't really know me. I never had family other than my mom before, since the yearly visits from Dad hardly counted. So I hope I get the chance to get to know you better. It's just going to take a while to get used to the weird shit."

"We understand, Adam—it _is_ a lot to take in all at once," I said as I dried my hands. "We don't expect you to get involved in all this. But unlike Dad, we won't keep you in the dark. We'll do our best to explain what's going on. And if you want, we can show you how to defend yourself, just in case something ever comes after you again because of Dad or us."

"But for now, Sammy and I need to crash. We had a long drive today and got a demon to deal with tomorrow. But if you need anything tonight, you know where to find us." With that, Dean tugged me upstairs.

Once we were in the bedroom we considered ours, he sat down on the bed and looked up at me through long lashes. "So how pissed off are you at me?"

I sat beside him and put a hand on his firm thigh. "I'm not, Dee. I understand why you felt you couldn't tell me before I knew about you, and I believe you when you said you honestly forgot afterwards. Just _please_ tell me there aren't any other deep, dark secrets that you've neglected to mention!"

My brother visibly relaxed. "Not that I'm aware of. Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"

"I really don't know. I get what you said earlier, but knowing that what Yellow-Eyes did is always going to be part of me . . . it skeeves me out inside."

"I hear ya, Sammy. After I got back from Hell, I wasn't sure how much of me was still—well, not _human_ , but you know what I mean—after what I'd done there. And I was _really_ fucking down on myself for a long fucking time 'cause of it. D'ya wanna know what changed that? It was finding out that you loved me despite all that shit, despite what I was and everything I'd done.

"So I want you to keep the same thing in mind. I've known—or at least suspected—what the Yellow-Eyed Demon really did to you for years now, but it's _never_ changed how I feel 'bout you. You're still my baby brother, my lover, and the best person I've ever known." He leaned up and pressed his full lips to mine.

I kissed back and then rested my forehead against his. "What would I do without you, big brother?"

"You ain't ever gonna find out, 'cause I'm _always_ gonna be here for you, little brother." Dean stood, stretched lithely, and grinned down at me. "Now, before the schmoop in here reaches toxic levels, I'm gonna take a shower."

I snorted back a laugh as he grabbed his shower bag and left the room.

I was alone in the bed when I woke up the next morning. I still felt a bit groggy—I'd woken up in the middle of the night to Dean starting to moan and thrash in the throes of a nightmare. I managed to wake him before anyone else's rest was disturbed, but between soothing him and then watching him until I felt sure the bad dreams wouldn't return, I wasn't able to fall back asleep for quite a while.

I showered and dressed quickly and then followed the smell of frying bacon downstairs. Both of my brothers were in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Adam was at the stove, cooking the bacon and sniggering, while Dean was leaning against the counter, whipping a bowl of batter and regaling him with tales of my past culinary mishaps.

It was a little odd, seeing the two of them together like this. Dean and Adam both took after their mothers in appearance, and John Winchester obviously had a type. This young man whom we barely knew looked more like Dean's brother than I did, and I wasn't sure if I liked that. I was aware it was silly—it was a good thing Dean and I looked so different when we posed as co-workers on a hunt or acted like a couple in public. And I knew Adam was no threat to my place in Dean's heart despite the resemblance. But it was still disconcerting.

"Hey, no fair poisoning our kid brother against me when I'm not here to defend myself!" I jabbed Dean in his most ticklish rib to cover up the pang of jealousy.

He retaliated by whacking me on the nose with the whisk before moving out of poking range. "It's an older brother's prerogative to embarrass the younger, Sammy. Why don't you check if there's any fruit in the fridge and slice 'em up to go with these pancakes? Cutting shit up and making sandwiches is 'bout the only things he should be allowed to do in the kitchen." This was directed towards a smirking Adam.

"I can do more than that, jerk!" I said indignantly as I wiped batter off my face.

"Bitch, you once managed to burn _Ramen noodles_! Now less whining and more slicing!"

"Explain to me why I put up with you?" I grumbled as I rummaged through the fridge.

""Cause you know I'm awesome! And 'cause you'd starve to death on nothing but rabbit food on your own."

After a large breakfast, we prepared the study for the ritual. Dean and I rolled back the rug and chalked a devil's trap on the floor underneath the Great Pentacle on the ceiling, and then added a ring of runes around it for the truth spell. Cas helped Bobby mix the necessary herbs in a brass bowl, which was placed in the center of the trap over a circular summoning sigil. Six candles were placed around the bowl and lit. Adam watched the proceedings from the bed in the bay window.

"Alright, last step is one of us needs to add his blood to the bowl and recite the words to the ritual. And then get the hell outta the trap in case this Crowley fellow doesn't take kindly to being trapped," Bobby explained.

"I'll do it then—I've got the best reflexes. Unless the blood's gotta be human?" Dean looked inquiringly at the older hunter and the seraph.

"No, your blood should be more than sufficient, Dean," Cas responded.

Dean stepped into the trap and cut his palm with his pocketknife. After his blood had dripped into the bowl, he dropped a match onto the herbs and read the words of the incantation, " _Et ad congregandom eos coram me._ " He quickly leapt out of the chalked circle as the flames in the bowl shot upward. I handed him a handkerchief, which he wrapped around his bleeding hand.

"Hello, boys. And friends, apparently." Crowley paused and looked at the devil's trap in disgust. "What's this, then? I gave you the Colt— I thought we were compatriots! Where's the trust?"

"You set us up! You knew it wouldn't work against the Devil! We lost people on that suicide run—good people!" Dean snapped.

Crowley put on an injured expression. "I never! Look . . . I swear, I thought the Colt would work. It was an honest mistake. But nothing's changed—I still want Lucifer dead. Well, one thing's changed . . . now he _knows_ I want him dead. Which makes me the most buggered son in all of creation!"

"Holy crap, we don't fucking care!" Dean spat back.

I put a hand on my brother's shoulder. "Calm down, man. He can't lie to us right now, remember?"

"Yes, listen to Moose," the demon said snidely. "So I take it you're after the remaining Horsemen's rings? Yes, I know all about them. I've been keeping a close eye on you lot."

"How?" I asked. "We have hex bags, so we're hidden from all you demons."

"All but me. The night you broke into my house—our first date, as it were—my valet hid a little tracking device in that steel monstrosity you drive around in. A magical coin that allows me to hear all sorts of things. And oh my, the things I've heard! So you want to cram Satan back in his box? Cunning scheme. I want in."

"Enough chattering!" Bobby said impatiently. "Do you know anything or not? "Cause we've got better things to do with our time than listen to you yammer on, princess."

"Charming. I can give you Pestilence, and possibly Death as well. That's got your interest, doesn't it?"

"You know where we can find them?" I asked.

"Well now . . . I don't know where they are, per se," Crowley admitted. "But I do know the demon who does. He's what you might call the Horsemen's stable boy—handles their itineraries, takes care of their personal needs, et cetera. He'll be able to tell us where Sneezy and the Grim Reaper are at."

"How do we get him to spill? Rip his toenails out?" Dean demanded, not looking pleased. His tolerance for anything resembling torture had dropped since starting to deal with his memories of Hell.

Crowley shook his head. "Nuts at his paygrade won't crack using such crude methods. No, we bring him someplace secure, and then I sell him."

"Sell him? You think he's just going to _tell_ you for the asking?" I questioned skeptically.

"Please, I've sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can't close one little demon? I just need to confirm where the little git is. I've been under a rock like a bloody salamander the past few months because every demon who wants to kiss Lucifer's arse has got his eye out for me!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "My heart's fucking bleeding for you. How long d'ya need?"

"Shouldn't take more than a day. So how about you let me out of this damn trap, and I'll pop by tomorrow with the location of the flunky we need?" Crowley eyed the chalked symbols around him pointedly.

Bobby, Dean, and I looked at each other, then I shrugged and rubbed the edge of the trap out with my foot. Before anyone could say a word, the demon vanished.

"I too must go. Call me if you need assistance dealing with this demon. Either one of them," Castiel said, before disappearing with a faint rustle.

"So that was a demon?" Adam asked. "He didn't seem so awful."

"Don't let the fancy suit and posh accent fool you, kid," Bobby replied. "This Crowley's plenty dangerous. He might be working with us at the moment, but he'll have no problem turning your insides into your outsides if it suits his purposes later.

"Now I need to head into town. I wasn't expecting you two to be back so soon, and the current contents of my kitchen ain't up to feeding _three_ Winchesters. So it's time for a supply run."

I asked, "Do you want one of us to come with you?"

"I'll go," Adam spoke up. "I could use a chance to get out of the house."

Dean pulled out his wallet and handed Bobby several bills. "If you've got the time, you might wanna take him to a tattoo parlor while you're out. He could use one of these." He tapped the spot where his anti-possession tattoo lay under his shirt.

"Good idea, boy. You two see if you can clean all this ritual stuff up. And don't forget to call Missouri! We don't know how long it'll take to get your powers up to snuff, so the sooner you start on the training the better." Bobby wheeled out of the house with Adam in tow.

Dean blew out the candles and carried the brass bowl into the kitchen. I moved the candles to the desk and rubbed the summoning sigil out with an old rag. I decided against erasing the devil's trap or truth spell, thinking they might be useful if we had to bring the demon here, and simply rolled the rug back into place. From the kitchen, I heard the sound of a knife repeatedly striking a cutting board and "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" being sung softly, and deduced that Dean had moved on to preparing something for lunch later.

I moved into the living room, flopped on the couch, and pulled out my phone. It took a bit of searching, but I eventually found Missouri's number. We hadn't spoken to her in over four years, so I hoped she still felt kindly towards us as the phone rang.

A cheerful voice spoke before I could say anything. "Hello, Sam! How are you and that pretty brother of yours doing?"

"Hi, Missouri. We're not too bad, given the circumstances. What about you?"

"Can't complain. Now, I know you didn't call to chat 'bout the weather or anything. How can I help you boys?"

I'd forgotten how strange it was to talk to someone who knew your thoughts. "I need to learn how to control my powers, and I was hoping you could teach me."

"Dean as well?"

"Yeah, him too. And . . . we were hoping you could come here. We're at Bobby Singer's place in Sioux Falls. There are a lot of things trying to find us, and his house is warded against pretty much everything."

"Well now, I ain't sure how much I can guide you, 'cause your abilities are so beyond mine. But I can at least put you on the right path. Gimme a few days to get things settled here, and I'll be over. That should give you enough time to take care of what you're dealing with right now," she said.

"We really appreciate this, Missouri. Thanks!" I gave her the address and Bobby's phone number before bidding her goodbye.

I'd just started watching a documentary on beluga whales when Dean came in, carrying two sodas. As he walked over to the couch, he said, "Got some roast beef au jus in the crockpot. Give it 'bout four hours, then we'll have French dip for lunch. Did you call Missouri?"

"Yeah, she said she should be here in a few days to help us with this training thing."

"Awesome." He set the bottles down on the scuffed coffee table and climbed on top of me, straddling my lap. He grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. "So we've got the house to ourselves for at least a coupla hours. Think we can find something more interesting to do than watch Shamu on the boob tube?"

I hit the power button on the remote and placed my hands on his slim hips. "Are you _sure_ you're up for this?"

He settled his arms around my neck. "Yeah, man. I've been feeling a lot better since the showdown in the Beautiful Room. Saving Adam, ganking that douchebag, flipping Michael off—all that helped me remember that I ain't helpless or weak. If I can stand up to a fucking archangel and walk away, then I ain't letting this shit keep me down. And now we're safe at Bobby's, and no one else is around, so . . ."

"Okay, but promise you'll let me know if you want to slow down or stop, alright?"

"Enough talking, Sam." My brother covered my mouth with his before I could say anything else.

I parted my lips under his, and his tongue slipped inside my mouth. We kissed deeply for several minutes, and then he worked his way across my jaw and down my neck. As he nibbled at his favorite spot at the base of my neck, I slid my hands under his t-shirt and up his sides.

I paused as I felt the sleek muscle over his ribs and commented, "You cheated."

He gave my neck one last nip and pulled back. "What's the point of being a shifter if I can't take advantage of it once in a while? Ain't much different than fixing things after an injury. You complaining 'bout the results?" He pulled off his shirt and smirked.

"Mmm, no. Just be careful that the reason you needed to do it doesn't happen again!"

With that, I ran my fingers across his pectoral muscles and around his nipples, enjoying the sight in front of me. Dean had never been as well-built as I, at least not since I'd overshot him in both height and weight in my late teens. But he was lithe and strong, his fair freckled skin overlaying the lean, sturdy build of a martial artist or runner (fitting since sparring and running were his preferred forms of exercise). I'd always liked how smooth his skin was—his torso was virtually hairless apart from the underarms and groin, and even his forearms and legs were only sparsely decorated with fine golden hairs. I smiled as I ghosted my hands over his chest and abdomen.

He leaned into my touch. "Whatcha smiling at?"

"Just admiring your skin. I always wondered, is the lack of hair natural or something you tweaked?"

"Definitely tweaked. Never particularly liked being hairy. Though I certainly like _your_ chest hair and treasure trail!" He tugged at my shirt until he got it off and then glanced at me a bit uncertainly. "You don't think it's weird?"

I rubbed my hands more firmly along his ribs. "No, I like it. Don't know how I'd feel if you were more hirsute."

"Nice five-dollar word there, college boy. I think it's more proof that you're not really into guys."

"Really, dude? I think how much I enjoy making love to you says otherwise."

"Sure, to _me_. But you barely had any kinda sex with guys before that, and you said they all looked like me. Face it—you prefer women and me, and that's it."

"Whatever. It's a moot point anyways, since I don't plan to be with anyone but you. And now _you're_ the one talking too much!" I pulled him closer and kissed him hard to shut him up.

Dean moaned into my mouth as he combed his fingers through the curls on my chest and gently squeezed and flicked my nipples. I let my lips wander to the spot just below his ear and sucked a mark there while running my nails down the firm muscles of his back. He arched his back at that, and I leaned down to suckle at first one nipple and then the other. He gasped and clutched at my hair as I bit down and worried each pink peak between my teeth.

His grip tightened. "Fuck, man, keep doing that!'

I sucked and gnawed at the small buds until they were red and sore, then slipped my hands down to the waistband of his jeans. I paused, my fingers on the button, and looked at the smaller man.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yeah, Sammy. Please . . ." He ran his hands through my hair and kissed me.

I unfastened his jeans, and he stood up long enough for me to push them and his boxer-briefs down. He stepped out of them and resumed his seat on my lap. I closed my hand around his erect cock and rubbed my thumb over the slit, slicking my hand up with his pre-ejaculate fluid. I began sliding my hand up and down his shaft quickly and used my other hand to fondle his testicles.

My brother swore breathlessly and gripped my shoulder tightly with one hand. His other hand reached down and fumbled at the buttons of my jeans.

I pulled my hand away from his balls and caught his fingers. "You don't have to, Dee."

He looked at me sincerely. "It's okay. I wanna touch you."

He opened my jeans and carefully pulled my member out. He licked his lush lips as he stroked me in time to my hand moving on his cock. I put my free hand on the small of his back and pulled him closer, until I could wrap my hands around both of our shafts. He then put both of his hands on my shoulders and thrust his cock against mine while I rapidly jerked both of us off. It didn't take long for the two of us to climax almost simultaneously, liberally coating my hands and our bellies with cum.

"Was that good? Are you okay?" I asked anxiously after I caught my breath.

Dean lifted his head from where he'd slumped against my shoulder and smiled. "That was _awesome_ , dude! God, I've missed this! Mmm . . . ya know what else would be awesome? If you can use your psychic powers to bring us something to clean up with."

"I'm so glad we did this too. But sadly, no luck on the telekinesis yet. And since your hands aren't covered in cum . . ."

"Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second."

He stood and staggered into the kitchen, then came back shortly with a handful of paper towels. After wiping us both off and dropping the soiled towels on the floor, he curled up in my lap. A contented purr rumbled through his chest.

I shifted around until I was stretched out on the couch with my lover resting on top of me. I caressed him softly and listen to the purr get louder. I pressed a kiss into his rumpled hair.

"You're amazing, you know that? I can't believe how far you've come."

Heavy green eyes blinked up at me. "Couldn't have done it without you. Love you, Sammy."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Crowley didn't show up until mid-afternoon of the following day. We were in the study, looking up lore for another hunter who'd contacted Bobby for help, when there was a knock at the front door. I went to the door and opened it.

The demon stood on the porch, dressed in his usual natty black suit. "Hullo, Moose. Would've popped directly inside, but the wards on this place are a bit inhospitable."

"We don't normally _want_ demons in here, so you'll have to cope." I held the door open and stood aside to let him pass.

Crowley headed straight for the study and took a seat in one of the armchairs. He looked around. "Where are Feathers and the youngest Winchester brother?"

"Not here and none of your business," Dean said shortly as I sat down next to him. "Whaddya got?"

"Your manners are delightful as always, Squirrel. I would've come sooner, but I was limited to those contacts I was confident wouldn't try to send my head to Lucifer with a bloody bow on it. But I found the demon we need. He's at the headquarters of Niveus Pharmaceuticals, working on a big project for our friend Pestilence."

"A pharmaceutical company? Why would Pestilence be interested in someplace that makes _cures_ for diseases?" I asked.

"Possibly because Niveus manufacturers vaccines—for swine flu, among others. Just in time for all those little epidemics that seem to be _suddenly_ popping up all over the world."

Dean stiffened. " _Croatoan_! Remember when Cas sent me into a shitty future where the Devil had won? The population had been fucking decimated by the damn virus."

Crowley clapped his hands sardonically. "A prize for the shorter denim-wrapped horror! Yes, I'll stake my reputation on it—that vaccine is chock full of Grade-A, farm-fresh Croatoan virus."

"Well, that's something else we'll hafta ask this demon now," Bobby stated. "Then we can figure out how to throw a nice big wrench into their grand plan."

"Excellent. I'll come back after dusk. The headquarters is maybe four hours from here. My source tells me Sneezy's flunkies have been burning the midnight oil trying to get the 'vaccine' ready, so we'll be able to catch our boy in his office," Crowley said. "There is one more _small_ thing . . . Jolly Green needs to stay behind."

"What? Why?" I demanded.

"Well now . . . it turns out the little wanker has a bit of . . . _history_ with Gigantor here. Bringing him along is much too volatile. We can't risk him losing it and cocking everything up!"

"No! There is _no_ way that I'm letting Dean go off alone with some red-eyed bastard we barely trust! Either both of us come with you, or you need to figure something else out." I was adamant.

"Don't underestimate Sam's self-control—he can handle way more shit than you think," Dean added. "And on the off-chance that he does try to Hulk out on the guy, I'll be there to bring him back down."

"Bollocks! Sure, let's bring the homicidal giant with us—what's the harm? After all, we're only dealing with the _bloody end of the world_ , you sodding _morons_!" The demon took a deep breath, trying to get back under control. "Fine. It's on _your_ damn heads if this goes arse up though!"

"Who _is_ this guy anyways?" I asked.

"Oh no! I am _not_ telling you and then leaving you to stew in your rage for the next several hours. You'll find out when we get there. And I don't care if your brother has to trank you or blow you to keep you in line, but we _will_ handle this like damn professionals." Before we could say anything else, he disappeared.

"Well, hell!" Bobby pushed his cap back and scratched his head. "Are you two sure 'bout going off with this guy?"

"Yeah, man. Dunno what's got him all fucking hot and bothered, but me and Sam can work it out," my brother answered confidently. "I'm gonna sharpen the demon-killing knife and make sure we got enough holy water. Sam, see what you can find out 'bout Niveus, okay?"

We spent the next couple hours preparing. I looked through the company's website to see if I recognized anyone, but none of the pictures of board members or executive officers looked familiar. I was able to dig up floorplans of the main building, so we wouldn't be going in blind. Dean made beef stroganoff for dinner, and we retired to our room afterward to kill some time making out.

Dean and I were lying in bed, exchanging lazy kisses, when Bobby called out, "Get your asses down here before I exorcise this pretentious bastard!"

We quickly pulled our clothes together and smoothed out each other's hair before hurrying downstairs. Crowley was in the study, trying to poke through the contents of one of the bookshelves, while Bobby was less successfully trying to keep him away.

Crowley took a look at our flushed faces and rolled his eyes. "Will you two be able to keep it in your pants long enough to bag our target? Yes, I know about _that_ too. One of the downsides of the tracker in your giant steel deathtrap—I got _far_ too many earfuls about your bloody sex lives!"

"Tell me 'bout it," Bobby muttered, before realizing who he was agreeing with and scowling.

Dean ignored the demon and turned to the older hunter. "We'll give you a call after we grab this guy to let you know what we find out."

"You both be careful. And call on Cas if you need back-up," Bobby said.

We grabbed our bags and went outside, Crowley trailing behind. Once we reached the Impala and stowed everything in the trunk, Dean turned a hard stare on the demon.

"Let's get a coupla things fucking straight right from the get-go. First, you _will_ respect the car. One more snide comment 'bout her, and you'll be riding in the damn trunk instead of the backseat. Even Sam knows not to dis my Baby.

"Second, just 'cause we gotta work together doesn't mean we trust you any farther than we can fucking throw you. You burned us bad once before, and the _only_ reason we didn't gank you is the truth spell backed you up when you said it wasn't intentional. Try to pull that shit again though, and you'll find out _exactly_ why demons should know better than to mess with the Winchesters. _Capisce_?" His grin was nasty and full of sharp teeth.

"You've made your position crystal-clear. Now can we get on with it?" Crowley responded.

The trip to the Niveus headquarters had to be one of the most awkward three hours of my life. Crowley refrained from insulting the Impala, but a steady stream of snarky remarks about virtually everything else flowed from the backseat, despite our threats. Eventually Dean cranked up the radio loud enough that no one could be heard over it. Never one to pay much attention to speed limits anyways, he drove faster than normal even for him to shorten our time cooped up with the demon.

It was nearly midnight by the time we pulled into the parking lot of the pharmaceutical company's main building, and there were still some cars around. Dean parked near the back, away from any of the other vehicles. Only a few of the offices were still lit up, though we could see guards in the lobby.

My brother eyed the lobby. "Wouldn't it be easier to wait until this dude leaves and grab him in the damn parking lot?"

"Only if you fancy waiting here for a few days," Crowley replied. "He and his cronies are pulling an extended all-nighter to get this vaccine ready. And it's not like they need to eat or sleep. Good news is, the building's empty but for them and a couple human security guards. And I believe most of the demons are in the laboratory or production areas. So there shouldn't be much between us and our boy."

"Alright, we just need to figure out how to bypass the guards in the lobby then . . ." I started to say before noticing that he was gone.

We both looked around, then Dean swore as we saw Crowley in the lobby, standing over the bodies of the guards. We grabbed our weapons before hustling inside. Crowley was wiping his hands clean with a silk handkerchief.

"You fucking _killed_ 'em? What the hell, dude!" Dean exclaimed.

" _Now_ you're squeamish? Please. We're on a tight schedule. Come on. I've already disabled the security cameras." He walked over to the elevators and pushed the Up button. "The demon we want is on the twelfth floor."

Once the elevator arrived, Dean and I stepped in, but Crowley didn't. I demanded, "What, you're not coming with us?"

"Oh, no. It's not safe up there. There's _demons_."

My brother and I exchanged a glance. Dean held the door open, while I grabbed Crowley by both arms and yanked him inside. Before the demon could protest, Dean let the doors slide closed and hit the button for the floor we wanted.

"No way, assmunch! Either you're facing the danger with us, or I'm peeling you like a damn onion," Dean threatened.

"Fine, you Neanderthals!" Crowley pulled his suit straight. "As far as I can tell, our target is currently the only one on that floor. I'll go in first and see if I can con him out of his office. At which point you thugs can tag and bag him. If things go south while I'm in there with him, I expect you to ride in like the flannel-clad cavalry."

He pointed at me. "And remember to keep a leash on your bloody temper, or we're all buggered! Do what you want to him _after_ we get our information."

The elevator dinged and opened, and we followed Crowley down the hall. He paused at a junction and indicated we should wait there. As he continued down the second hallway, Dean handed me a small Super Soaker from his bag. I raised an eyebrow.

"Holy water. Adam's idea," the other hunter whispered. He then gestured at me to stay quiet so we could hear the conversation around the corner.

"—ually, it's about what I can do for you," Crowley said. "Heard the Winchesters dropped two of your jockeys. Kept a . . . souvenir, shall we say, from each."

"Yes, I got the memo. What about them?"

I froze as I recognized the other voice, one I hadn't heard in nearly five years. The implications of what that meant hit me, and I growled softly. Dean put a hand on my chest and looked up at me in concern. I shook my head and signed, _Later_.

Meanwhile, Crowley continued, "You see, I've got the brothers convinced that I'm on their side, working with them to defeat the big man. So I know _exactly_ where those two idiots have stashed the Horsemen's secret power rings. Heard you wanted them back and would be willing to pay handsomely."

"Hmm. Where are they?"

"Not here, obviously. And I don't want to discuss it here either, not where you could call in all sorts of unsavory types if things don't go well. Why don't we retire to a more neutral location and see if we can negotiate in a civilized manner?"

"Who says I _want_ them? See, War and Famine . . . even if I could cram the rings back on their bony fingers, I doubt it would do much good. They're nothing but withered husks now, fetal position on the floor, thanks to those hunters. So the rings are worthless.

"But _you_ now? That's a different story! I hear Lucifer wants to reduce you down to your component atoms _slowly_. I'm sure there's a nice reward for the enterprising fellow who turns you in."

"I think not," Crowley responded calmly. "I may have been just a tad . . . _untruthful_ about the nature of my relationship with the brothers Winchester. Oh, boys?"

At that, we rushed around the corner and into the lit office, Dean taking point as usual. I fought to remain calm as I identified the blandly handsome features of my former roommate and best friend from college, Tyson Brady. Brady was reclining in an expensive-looking armchair behind a large executive desk, while Crowley stood in front of it. Dean and I split apart, circling the office to approach Brady from different sides.

"Is that you, Sam? Fancy meeting you here!" Brady feigned surprise. "And the pretty piece over there must the brother you were constantly drooling over, even after you met Jess. Did she ever figure out that she was only getting your sloppy seconds? You know, it's _such_ a shame I couldn't stick around to see your face when you found her after I was done with her that last night."

Before I could react to that last statement, my brother growled, "I hate it when fuckwads like you call me pretty. You black-eyed bitches like it that deep in the closet?"

The preppy-looking demon stood, his expression no longer amused. He started to raise his hand, then shrieked as he got a face full of holy water from both of our Super Soakers. Crowley, who'd prudently moved away from the desk, lifted his own hand and began flicking pictures and plaques off the wall towards the other demon. Dean used the distraction to dart in and aim a reverse-crescent kick at Brady's head. The demon staggered back, but before Dean could press the attack, he was flung hard against the opposite wall.

Seeing my brother slumped on the floor eroded the last bits of tenuous control I had on my temper. I _reached_ inward for something throbbing just out of range and grabbed it firmly. I stretched out my right hand and clenched it. Brady choked and then flew up to crash into the ceiling. He was thrown equally as hard into the floor and then pinned to the wall behind his desk. I barely felt winded.

Crowley hurried over to the dazed demon and tossed a burlap sack painted with a devil's trap over his head. He then produced a crowbar from somewhere and proceeded to bring it down repeatedly on Brady's head until he slumped over. Crowley then glanced at me.

"Impressive, Moose. Been drinking your Ovaltine again?"

I didn't even look up from where I was bent over my brother, helping him sit up. "Stuff it, Crowley. I'm done with that. Dee, are you okay?"

Dean shook his head to clear it. "'M fine—just doing my usual Wile E. Coyote impression. Now let's get outta here before someone decides to investigate all the damn crashing and banging."

We managed to get our captive out to the car without incident. We tied him up properly with salt-infused rope, and Crowley carved a binding rune into his chest to keep him from smoking out of his meat suit before gagging the other demon. Brady was then stuffed unceremoniously into the Impala's trunk, where the devil's trap painted on the interior of the lid as well as on the sack still on his head would keep him contained.

Once we were away from the office park and on the road to Sioux Falls, Dean threw a look at me. "Okay, spill. Who's the asshole we got tied up in Baby's trunk?"

"I don't know who the demon is. But the guy he's possessing . . . His name's Tyson Brady, and he was my roommate at Stanford until I moved in with Jess, and he was my best friend there," I replied.

"Shit! Uh, maybe it's just a coincidence? He coulda gotten possessed sometime later."

"When has _anything_ having to do with demons in our lives been a simple coincidence? No, he _changed_ in the middle of our sophomore year. He came back from Thanksgiving break and started drinking, doing drugs, sleeping around. Ended up dropping out of pre-med. At the time, I thought he'd gotten hooked on something and tried to help him get clean. But now it's obvious that's when he got possessed.

"You know the worst part? Brady was the one who introduced me to Jess, and that wasn't until _after_ he'd changed. I've wondered for a while if our getting together had been a set-up, and now I _know_. And what he said back there—it sounded like he was the one who—who . . ."

"I heard, Sam. We'll find out the truth when we get him back to Bobby's house. And as soon as we don't need him no more, you can get your payback." My brother reached out and squeezed my shoulder comfortingly.

Crowley made a gagging noise. "What a lovely Hallmark moment. My heart bleeds. Really."

I turned and glowered. "Go on, keep it up, douchebag! There's plenty of room in the trunk for another body. And if you keep pissing us off, you might not like the results when you've outlived _your_ usefulness."

"No need to be nasty, Sasquatch. I'm not a bad guy, really. No one forces these chumps to make these deals, you know, and I'm always clear about the consequences. In my line of work, my word means everything. If you think about it, I'm more trustworthy to work with than those winged sociopaths."

Dean had paled at the mention of deals, and my glare turned murderous. "Shut it, Crowley! You're not a good Samaritan—you and your kind are the lowest type of fucking scum! You take advantage of people's weakness and desperation. Someone who sells themselves to save a loved one does _not_ deserve the decades of torment or the risk of turning into one of you black-eyed bastards. So unless you've got something productive to say, _shut the hell up_!"

Crowley sat back with an offended air.

Dean meanwhile shook off his distress and smirked at the demon. "Maybe we can have an enjoyable ride back now. And lookit you back there, Professor X! Told you that you could use your powers without anything else."

"Yeah, but I still need to learn how to access them when you're _not_ in imminent danger," I said.

"That's what the lessons will be for. Don't worry, we'll figure it out." He smiled and then turned up the radio.

The drive back was fairly uneventful. Crowley thankfully kept quiet for the most part. About halfway through the trip, we heard banging and muffled shouts from the trunk, but Crowley gestured and the noises abruptly cut off.

It was a couple hours to dawn by the time we returned to the salvage yard. I'd called Bobby right after leaving Niveus, so he was waiting for us as we dragged our weakly struggling prisoner inside.

"Sorry we're late, Bobby. Had to take the long way back in case we were followed. The wards on Baby don't cover everything." My brother paused to thump Brady's head as the demon tried to lash out.

"Take him down to the basement. I've got everything set up down there. Figure it'll be easier to mop up if things get messy," Bobby said. "So who _is_ this sack of shit that Crowley didn't want you near?"

"My roommate from college, the one who introduced me to Jess," I replied grimly.

"Well, _hell_! You okay, son?"

"For the moment, yeah. I'll be better when we can get rid of him."

Crowley pushed past us. "Enough chitchat! Let's get on with this."

Once we got Brady downstairs, we tied him to a heavy chair in the center of the devil's trap Bobby had spray-painted onto the cement floor. Dean pulled the sack off his head, removed the gag, and stepped outside the trap to wait, a holy water-filled Super Soaker in his hands and the demon-killing knife stuck through his belt. Bobby sat nearby, a book of exorcism rituals at the ready in his lap. I hung back, not sure if the hold on my temper would stand up to the provocation if I tried to engage Brady myself.

Crowley walked to the edge of the devil's trap. "Let's cut to the point, shall we? You have information we need—namely, the locations of the last two Horsemen."

The other demon laughed. "And why would I tell you anything? It's not like you're going to let me go when you're done."

"These knuckle-draggers behind me would like nothing better than to get in there with you and indulge in a bit of the old ultraviolence. But I know that a gentleman of your caliber won't succumb to such _rude_ persuasion. So I'm going to appeal to your reason and, more importantly, your survival instinct," Crowley responded. "You see, it's in our best interest to help these blokes. If Lucifer wins, he'll turn this place into his kingdom. And when he cleans house, we'll _all_ get the mop."

"He's our ruler, our _god_. He _made_ us—why would he destroy us? That makes no sense," Brady scoffed.

"Look at who—at _what_ he is, and then take a look at what _we_ are. He's a bloody archangel! We're nothing more than tools and cannon fodder to him. And once he no longer needs us, it'll be fecking smitings for the lot of us! But if we help put Old Scratch back in his box, we can go back to business as usual afterwards."

"And how does that help me? You I get—if the Morningstar gets his hands on you, _no one_ will know greater torment. He's _never_ going to let you die. As for me, I know the score. I'm dead whether I tell you anything or not, and _nothing_ these hunters can do to me will compare to what'd happen if I get on Satan's shit list. So I think I'll die on the winning side, thanks." Brady sat back with a smug expression.

"Bollocks! I was afraid it would come to this." Crowley walked over to the stairs.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Dean asked.

"To perform _exactly_ the kind of desperate swashbuckle I've been trying to avoid. This one's not going to talk, not without a little . . . incentive. So now I go stick my neck out and kick open a hive of demons. This sodding ring business better work!" the demon replied. "You keep an eye on our _guest_. And make sure he's still breathing when I return!" With that, he disappeared.

Brady looked over at me. "Cat got your tongue, Sam? Don't have anything to say to me?"

I clenched my fists at his mocking tone. "I just want to know why. Why take Brady? Why drag Jess into this?"

"Azazel sent me to watch over you. Brady here, he was a good kid. Straight arrow, your best friend—perfect point of access. You really were a good friend—remember how you tried so hard to get me back on the right track? But old Yellow Eyes didn't send me back to be buddies—my job was to make sure you stayed on script.

"He told me we might need leverage, so I hooked you up with that pure, sweet, innocent piece of tail. And good thing I did—we were losing you! You were turning into a mild-mannered, worthless sack of piss, and we couldn't have _that_. So I toasted her on the ceiling. That's right—Azazel might've put the hit out on Jess, but _I_ got to have all the fun! You know, she thought we were still friends—let me right in. She was so surprised . . . so _hurt_ when I started in on her." The demon laughed.

I growled and lunged towards the devil's trap. Dean stepped between, braced his shoulder against my chest, and pushed me back.

"Don't let him get to you, man! This is what he wants—he _wants_ you to kill him 'fore we can make him tell us anything! Don't play his game," my brother told me, looking up at me with his hands still on my chest.

"See, this is _exactly_ what we wanted," Brady continued. "You hunting again, staying sharp and strong until Lucifer was ready for you. The incestuous urges were a bonus, a little extra sin to soften you up. Shame you'd never have the balls to _act_ on them though. If _my_ brother looked like that, I'd be willing to risk damnation to tap that." He looked at us almost expectantly.

Dean leaned against me and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Sam, I do believe the fucking demon is trying to drive a wedge between us by revealing your deep, dark secret. Is this the part where I'm supposed to freak out? Or is it Bobby's turn to get mad?"

Bobby snorted. "Only way I'd get pissed is if you tried blowing each other in front of me. Long as you're keeping it PG in public, I ain't got a problem."

Dean smirked at the demon. "Looks like your big bombshell fizzled, asswipe. You okay, Sammy?"

I forced myself to relax. "Yeah, I'm good. You're right—I won't give him the satisfaction of the easy way out."

Bobby spoke up. "Why don't we leave smartass here to stew by himself and head upstairs. It's too damn late to still be functioning without caffeine. Fortunately I put a pot of joe on before we came down here."

"Bobby, you're awesome!" Dean beamed at him. "Lemme gag and bag douche-boy so he doesn't get into trouble while we're away."

Bobby got on the chairlift and trundled upstairs, while I helped my brother secure the captive. Brady tried to struggle to avoid being gagged again, until Dean pointed out he didn't need all his teeth to talk. We then went upstairs ourselves, where Bobby had mugs of hot caffeinated goodness waiting for us.

As we settled into our usual spot in the bay window, Bobby cleared his throat. "I didn't wanna ask earlier with the kid around, or any higher or lower powers nearby. How are you two doing? Particularly you, Dean?"

"Not too bad, surprisingly," my brother replied. "I mean, I still ain't back to a hundred percent yet. But I've been feeling a hell of a lot better since the faceoff with Zachariah. Ganking his manipulative ass, getting Adam out—it really shook me outta that negative headspace I've been stuck in since the attack. And what we're doing now—having an actual plan of attack instead of just chasing our fucking tails—helps a hell of a lot too."

"He really _has_ been doing a lot better lately," I confirmed. "Very few flashbacks or nightmares anymore, he's showing interest again in his favorite things, and he's definitely feeling more confident. We've even . . . started to um, reconnect physically."

" _Sam_! Dammit, Bobby don't wanna hear 'bout that shit!" Dean hissed, his face flushed in embarrassment.

Bobby coughed, his own cheeks a bit red. "Well, I don't wanna hear _details_. But that's still good news, boys. I'm happy for you. Just be careful not to push too far too fast."

Crowley found us in the study not too much later. Bobby was at the desk, idly leafing through a gun magazine. I was curled up on my side with my head in Dean's lap, practically purring as he played with my hair.

Crowley glared at all of us. "Having a nice little coffee break, are we? What happened to _keep an eye on the prisoner_ , you bloody imbeciles?"

I sat up. "Chill out, Crowley—we know what we're doing. Brady's hogtied to the chair with salted rope _and_ chained to the floor with iron. There are both physical and magical alarms on all the windows and doors down there, and Dean pointed a couple spare motion sensors at him too. Asshat can't _sneeze_ without us knowing about it. How about you?"

Crowley sighed dramatically. "God, the day I've had! Let's hope it was enough to do the trick."

Dean froze mid-way through standing and turned towards the window, his nostrils flaring. When he faced the room again, his green eyes were wide and his face paler than usual.

"Would someone like to fucking explain why the _fuck_ there's a fucking _hellhound_ waiting outside the fucking house?" he demanded.

"Don't worry, she's with me. Needed some extra firepower to take out the nest. They had a hound too. Fortunately, mine's bigger." Crowley's expression was fond and proud. "Right now Juliette's being a good girl and making sure no one followed Daddy here."

"You've got a fucking hellhound as a . . . _pet_?" My brother pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. I hurriedly wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into the contact.

"She's perfectly harmless unless I tell her otherwise. I'm more curious about how you could detect her, Squirrel. I thought Moose here was the only one with super-special powers."

"That's need-to-know, and you don't," I said, rubbing the smaller man's back comfortingly.

"Get bent. Well, time to deal with the matter at hand." The demon led the way back down to the basement.

Dean removed the sack and gag and flicked the side of Brady's head before stepping back. "Rise and shine, fuckwad. You've got visitors."

Crowley smiled nastily at the other demon. "Good news—you're going to live forever."

Brady looked alarmed. "What did you _do_?"

"Went over to a demons' nest and had a little massacre. Must be losing my touch though—let one of the little toads escape. Oops. Might've also given said toad the impression that you left your post last night because you and I are . . . wait for it . . . lovers in league against Satan." Crowley chuckled.

Brady groaned.

"Hello, _darling_. So death's off the table for you too. Now you get to be on the boss' eternal torment list with little old me."

"Oh, no. No, no, _no_. No!"

"Something else we have in common now—apart from our torrid passion, of course—is craven self-preservation. So why don't you tell me where Pestilence and Death are?"

Brady's shoulders slumped. "Fine! Anything you do to me after this will be downright merciful compared to if _he_ finds me. You've screwed me—for all fucking eternity!

"Okay, Pestilence can usually be found at the Serenity Valley Convalescent Home in Davenport, Iowa. He's using the place as his own personal petri dish, testing out his favorite pathogens on the patients. I can practically guarantee that he's going to be there for the next couple of days at least, playing with his toys."

Brady paused a moment nervously. "Death's location is harder to pin down. He's more of a . . . free agent. Moves around a lot, doesn't really check in with me or the higher-ups much. But . . . well, he was supposed to blow Chicago off the map a while back. But he didn't, apparently because he likes the food there. Frequents a place called Rinascita Pizzeria pretty regularly. If you wait there long enough, he's bound to show."

"Whaddya think?" Dean glanced around the room at the rest of us.

"It's good," Crowley said. "You got no reason to lie, have you? You're in my boat now."

"What about the swine flu vaccine Niveus is working on, the one that's laced with Croatoan? Where is that being produced and stored?" I asked.

"Everything's back at the headquarters. Research labs, manufacturing facilities, product storage, the whole nine yards," the demon explained. "The first lots of the vaccine are scheduled to begin shipping out in four days."

"Fuck! That's not much time!" I exclaimed.

"Okay, this is what we're gonna do. We're all gonna crash for a few hours, then Sam and I will go to Davenport to nab the ring from Pestilence. When we get back, we need to take out Niveus," my brother said decisively. "Bobby, while we're dealing with Sniffles, can you dig up as much as you can on Niveus' facility—blueprints, security, all that? And we're gonna need some heavy ordnance for the job too."

"Sure, kid. I'll see what I can rustle up."

"Crowley, while all this is going on, can you stake out that pizza joint in Chicago?" Dean continued. "Come get us as soon as Death shows."

"I should be able to manage a discreet surveillance. Need me for anything else? No? Then I'm off." The demon teleported away.

"If you've got everything under control here, I'm gonna head up. Pulling all-nighters ain't easy when you get to my age," Bobby said.

"Sure thing, man. We'll clean up before we hit the sack," Dean told him. He waited until Bobby went upstairs before handing me the demon-killing knife.

Brady's eyes shot back and forth between us. "What is this?"

"All those angels, all those demons, all those sonsofbitches . . . they just don't _get_ it, do they, Sammy?"

"No, they don't, Dean."

"You see, Brady— _we're_ the ones you should be afraid of." Dean stepped back to the edge of the trap.

Brady tried to put on an air of bravado as I approached. "I bet this is a real moment for you, big boy. Gonna make you feel all better?"

"It's a start," I replied.

"Gonna make up for all the times we yanked your chain—Yellow Eyes, Ruby, me? But it wasn't all _our_ fault, was it? _You're_ the one who trusted us, who let us into your life, let us whisper in your ear over and over again," Brady taunted.

"Ever wonder why that is, Sammy? Maybe it's because we got the same stuff in our veins, and deep down you _know_ you're just like us. Maybe you hate _us_ so much because you hate what you see in the mirror. You ever think of that? Maybe the only difference between you and us . . . is that your Hell is right _here_!"

My stomach roiled, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that his words affected me. I plunged the knife deep into his stomach and watched the light flare and crackle along his bones.

"Interesting theory," I told the corpse as I withdrew the blade and wiped it on his shirt.

After that, we wrapped the body in plastic, buried it in a back corner of the salvage yard, and washed away any trace of blood from the basement. We then went upstairs and undressed, and Dean headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. He might have the enviable ability to sleep under any circumstance, but between the coffee and the recent events, I was too wired to fall asleep just yet. Instead, I sat on the bed and examined how I was feeling.

Dean soon came back, a towel wrapped around his narrow waist and his fair skin still damp. He stopped in front of me and put a hand on my chin to tilt my face up. Concerned green eyes looked down into mine.

"How you doing, Sammy?"

I smiled up at him. "I'm okay, actually. I've been thinking about it, and I'm _tired_ of feeling shitty about myself, tired of feeling guilty about things out of my control. I realized that I need to be listening to you, not any demon or angel—you're the one that knows me best, after all. You're right—having demon blood _doesn't_ make me a bad person, especially if I can use it to help fix this mess.

"I also know that Brady was totally wrong about one fundamental thing. Despite everything going on around us, I'm _not_ living in Hell right now. The opposite, in fact—I've managed to find my own little piece of Heaven. And the reason is right in front of me." I placed my hands on his towel-clad hips and pulled him closer.

"Aww, that's so . . . _sappy_!" He grinned at me.

My smile grew in response. "Jerk! See if I say anything else nice to you!"

"You know you love me, bitch."

He let out a surprised squeak (not that he'd ever admit to making such an unmanly noise) as I yanked the towel off and pulled him into my lap. He promptly put his arms around my neck and reached up to kiss me. We both sighed and relaxed into the other.

I lost myself for several minutes in my brother's plush lips and nimble tongue. I was eternally grateful that no matter how bad everything else might get, I'd always have him. I let my hands roam over his lean torso, caressing the smooth skin and hard muscle beneath my fingertips.

His reaction was to push me down on the bed and pepper soft kisses down my neck and chest until he got to my nipples. He began playing with the small nubs, using little licks and nips and puffs of breath to drive me crazy. One hand slid down at the same time and combed through the hair around my member.

I groaned and swung my legs up on the bed, then rolled over until I was on top. I kissed my lover hard and rubbed my cock frantically against his until both were slick with pre-cum. I pulled away and looked down into his wide, bright eyes.

"I want to taste you, Dee. Can I—can I blow you?" I asked.

The smile he gave me was slow and deep. "That would be _awesome_ , Sammy!"

Dean hitched himself up until he was reclining against the headboard and sprawled his legs open. I settled between them, admiring his proud, dusky cock and smooth, heavy balls surrounded by wispy golden curls. I wrapped a hand around the thick shaft and stroked it slowly, enjoying the silky feel against my palm.

As he gasped in pleasure, I bent and lapped at the clear, salty fluid seeping from the slit before enveloping the head of his cock with my mouth. I continued to tongue his slit while sucking on his glans and rubbing his shaft. As his breathing grew hurried, I moved my hand to loosely grasp the base and swallowed down as much of his member as I could.

My brother arched his back and fisted his hands in my hair. " _Fuck_ , baby boy! Don—don't stop doing that!"

I kept sucking on his cock and running my tongue around the sides of his shaft, encouraged by his loud moans. I used one hand to fondle the rest of his member and his testicles and the other to start stroking my own cock. It wasn't long before the other man's breathing began to hitch as his climax hit. At the first taste of semen, I pulled away and aimed his spurting member to stripe his abdomen. A couple more jerks of my other hand, and I was cumming all over my fingers as well.

I flopped to one side and propped my head on a muscular thigh, and we panted happily for a couple minutes. I eventually grabbed the towel off the floor and wiped both of us clean. After tossing the towel in the direction of a pile of dirty laundry, I lay down next to my lover and threw an arm over his chest. As he snuggled up against me, I could feel as well as hear his satisfied purr.

Dean looked up at me, and his lush lips curled in a smirk. "So, little brother, you wanna tell me again the part where I'm right and you need to listen to me?"

I groaned. "I should've known that would come back to bite me in the ass!"

"Uh-uh, no back-peddling now! Say it—my big brother is right as usual, and I should listen to him more often."

"My big brother is an idiot, and I'm going to tickle him until he can't breathe if he doesn't shut up!" I stuck my tongue out at him and laughed at his pout.

"Hmph, you're lucky I'm a sucker for those dimples, brat."

"Yeah, yeah, old man. Come on, we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was once again nearly noon by the time we got up the next day. After a quick lunch, we hit the road and pulled into Davenport about six hours later. We got a room at the Old West Motel (tacky rodeo decor complete with steer horns hung on the wall above the bed) on the opposite side of town from the convalescent home. Dean went out to pick up dinner while I tried to research as much as I could on Serenity Valley.

"So get this," I said over our Chinese take-out. "I managed to hack into their records, and it seems like they've had an unusual number of mysterious patient deaths over the past few weeks. The reported causes have been what you'd expect—heart attack, stroke, stuff like that. But there's a hidden file that lists the _real_ causes. One patient alone came down with the common cold, chicken pox, Dengue fever, and Japanese encephalitis!"

Dean swallowed the mouthful of lo mein he'd just sucked down. "Yep, that ain't even close to normal. Definitely sounds like our guy. There mention of any new employees starting there right around when the weird shit began showing up?"

"I had the same thought, and yes. There's a Dr. Green who showed up out of nowhere around the same time. _And_ his name is on all the records with the unusual deaths. Needless to say, there's got to be demons on staff as well who are helping cover all this up."

"Of course, 'cause why make things fucking easier for us? I assume we'll go in a little later tonight, when there'll be less human employees around and most of the patients will be asleep." He took another bite of his egg roll.

"Sounds good. I'm just worried about how we're going to tell the humans from the demons from Pestilence," I confessed.

"You should be able to spot demon bitches once you get your mojo working again. But for now, we still got this." He tapped the side of his nose with his chopsticks. "I can sniff out who's normal from who's a damn meat suit. Dunno if that'll work on Pestilence, but we'll figure something out."

We killed a couple hours watching _Mythbusters_ , cuddled together on top of the bucking bronco bedspread. Prior to about four months ago, I would never have pegged my "no chick-flick moments" older brother as a snuggler. But since becoming a couple, I discovered that he enjoyed hugging, curling up together, and other gentler forms of affection nearly as much as our more intimate interactions. I suspected none of his flings ever saw this side of him, as I was the only one he'd let in behind his walls.

Once we deemed it dark enough, we drove across the city to the convalescent home. It was a large, rather dreary-looking building. There were only a few lights on and not many cars in the parking lot.

"So this is Dr. Evil's lair, huh?" Dean asked as we got out of the Impala and assessed our surroundings.

"It's kind of more depressing than evil, isn't it?"

"It's like a fucking four-color brochure for dying young. 'Course to Pestilence, it's probably like goddamn Dollywood in there. Huh. Well, we can be pretty damn sure that he's there right now."

He pointed to an old green station wagon, which had Nevada plates reading, "SIKN TRD." It was parked in a space marked, "Reserved—Physicians Only."

"Yeah, that's a pretty clear indicator," I said. "So what do we do now?"

He opened the Impala's trunk. "First, take this." He handed me the demon knife and slipped the angel blade under his own jacket. "Dunno if either will work on the Horseman, but at least they'll take care of his black-eyed goons. Follow me."

He led me to a dimly-lit side-entrance. It didn't appear to be alarmed, so I picked the lock and let us in. We found ourselves in a short, dark passage which led to a brighter main hallway. We hadn't gone far down the larger corridor when a burly security guard stepped out of a door ahead of us.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" he demanded.

My brother's posture relaxed, and he stepped forward with a sinuous grace. "Hey there. I'm looking for my nana—her name is Eunice Kennedy. She's 'bout this tall, grey hair, wears diapers."

The guard looked uncertain. "Uh, visiting hours ended at eight."

"I got a call—they said it was an emergency. We must've gotten turned around with all these hallways. You mind just helping me out, sir?" Dean smiled charmingly and looked at the other man through long lashes.

The guard eyed him up and down, then pointed further down the hall. "You'll need to go around front and see the nurse. I, uh, can take you there if you—"

As the guard began to turn away, Dean leapt forward and grabbed him in a sleeper hold. The other man struggled briefly but soon went limp. We each grabbed an arm and dragged him into the room he'd come out of, which turned out to be the security office.

After tying the guard to a chair, I looked at my brother. "Dude, were you just _flirting_ with Paul Blart here?"

"Hey dude, don't doubt the gaydar! Guy here wasn't as deep into the fucking closet as his wife would like." Dean rolled his eyes. "Besides, it worked as a distraction."

I peered at the monitors above the desk. "So what are we even looking for?"

"Dunno. He's Pestilence, so he probably looks sick."

" _Everybody_ here looks sick. Oh, hey!" I pointed to a tall figure walking into a patient's room. The image was distorted around the figure's head.

"Yahtzee! Can you make out the room number?"

"Looks like . . . room two-fourteen." I consulted the building map on the desk. "Second floor, just down the hall from the stairs around the corner."

We headed upstairs. Just past the stairwell, we found the bodies of a doctor and a nurse. The doctor's head was lying in a pool of bloody vomit. The nurse's skin was covered in angry red spots, and her face was cyanotic.

As we passed the bodies, I started feeling feverish and coughed violently. My hand came away from my mouth flecked in red. "Ugh . . . must be getting close."

"Damn, ya think?" Dean quickly put his shoulder underneath mine and wrapped an arm around my waist as I began to stagger.

We made it halfway down the hall before another nurse came out of the room we were looking for. Her eyes flicked beetle-black as she sneered at us. "The doctor will see you now."

My brother was supporting most of my weight as we followed the demon into the room. I felt raging hot and itchy all over, my throat was sore and my neck rigid, and my head was killing me. I vaguely noticed that Dean was hunched over and wheezing.

A tall, thin man in a doctor's coat faced us. "Sam, Dean, come right in. Hmm, you boys don't look well. It might be the scarlet fever. Or the meningitis. Oh, or the syphilis! _That's_ no fun. However bad you feel right now though, it's going to get so very, very much worse. Questions?

"Disease gets a bad rap for being filthy and chaotic, when that just describes the _people_ who get sick. Disease itself is very . . . pure, single-minded. Bacteria have one purpose—to divide and conquer. That's why in the end, it _always_ wins. Now, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

Dean carefully set me down on a chair and straightened, drawing the angel blade but keeping it hidden from the other two in the room. "It's pretty damn impressive, man. Only one problem with your little bag of shitty tricks though. All those fucking diseases you're throwing around right now? They only work on _humans_."

He lunged at Pestilence and brought the blade down on his hand, severing his ring and pinky fingers. The Horseman shrieked and fell back, clutching his spurting hand. The demonic nurse charged, but Dean turned and simply let her impale herself on the blade.

Pestilence glared weakly as my brother strolled towards him. "It doesn't matter. It's too late . . ."

"Sorry to disappoint, douchebag, but if you're talking 'bout your big vaccine scheme, we're onto that. Your boy Brady was _real_ fucking helpful before Sam ganked him." Dean leaned down and stabbed him through the chest. There was a flash of sickly-green light, and Pestilence disappeared.

The moment the ring was separated from Pestilence's body, I started feeling better. I was still weak and sore, but the majority of my symptoms had disappeared. Once the Horseman was gone, I tried pushing myself to my feet and swayed.

Dean immediately caught me around the chest. "Careful there, Sammy! How're you feeling?"

"Everything's still kinda achy, and I'm about as strong as a newborn kitten right now. But I don't feel like dying anymore, so I'll take the rest of it." I looked down at him. "What about you? You were having trouble breathing before . . ."

"That was _acting_ , dude. His shit didn't do anything to me. Now you sit yourself back down for a minute, and then we'll get you back to the motel to rest."

He shook Pestilence's ring free of the severed finger and wiped it and the angel blade clean on the demon's scrubs. He then helped me stand and walk out to the car. He secured me in the passenger seat and stowed the weapons back in the trunk before driving back to our motel.

By the time we parked in front of our room, I was feeling well enough to walk in unaided. Nevertheless, Dean made me sit on the bed while he went for the med kit. He walked back and handed me a couple aspirin.

"Here, take these. Then get your ass undressed and sleep it off."

I accepted the pills and also the can of soda he passed over next. "I'm feeling a lot better, man. We should hit the road. We've got less than three days to stop those vaccine shipments. I'll be fine resting in the car."

"No way, Sammy! You were covered in a nasty rash and hot enough to cook a damn egg on just twenty fucking minutes ago. You're getting a proper night's sleep first, and then we'll see how you are in the morning. I ain't taking no for an answer on this.

"Besides, there's no point in rushing back tonight—we ain't gonna be able to attack Niveus tomorrow anyways. We need to gather proper intel first, and it's not like we can just go down to Wally World to pick up the explosives and shit. So we might as well make sure you're back to a full tank for when everything is ready." He was wearing his "big brother knows best" expression.

"Fine, you're right. I'm going to take a shower first though. The hot water should help with the soreness, and I want to wash off any funk Pestilence may've left behind."

He visibly twitched at that. My brother was a bit of a germaphobe, even though most of the bugs we ran across couldn't affect him. If he really were a cat, he'd probably be desperately licking himself right about now. The thought made me snicker briefly.

I took off my shoes and socks and pulled off my shirt, then paused. "Are you sure you're okay? I'm talking about dealing with the guard earlier, not anything Pestilence did. I know you're still not comfortable with people hitting on you, so I want to make sure it's not bothering you to have handled him like that."

Dean, who was clearly enjoying the view, shook himself. "Huh? I think I'm okay. It felt a little weird, like I was outta fucking practice or something. But it didn't really feel _bad_. It was just part of the con, ya know? It didn't mean anything."

That answer sounded too easy. "Dude, don't BS me. How do you _really_ feel?"

He glared at me for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay, it _did_ kinda squick me out while I was pretending to flirt with the dude. But I ain't gonna get over this shit if I keep avoiding everything. And I really _am_ fine now. We green, Sam?"

I stood and dropped my jeans and boxers, then kissed him in response. He responded ardently, sliding his hands around my waist. I pulled back in regret before anything went too far and grabbed my shower bag. If we had sex of any kind now, I wouldn't have the energy to do anything other than sleep afterward.

I stepped into the shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go. As I stood under the spray, my muscles slowly began to unwind. The cactus-print shower curtain rustled a couple minutes later, and a pair of sturdy arms wrapped around my chest from behind.

"Howdy, pardner. Mind if I join you in here?" His John Wayne impression was pretty atrocious.

"Dude, don't quit your day job."

"Shaddup, Statler, and pass me the damn soap."

I handed him the bar of soap, and he lathered up my torso. Starting at my neck, he then proceeded to massage the muscles down my back. I braced myself against the wall in front of me and occasionally groaned in appreciation. By the time he reached my buttocks, everything had relaxed to the point that it took effort to remain standing. Everything except a certain portion of anatomy below the waist.

Dean pressed a kiss between my shoulder blades and slipped his hands around to my front. He began caressing my pectoral muscles and slowly worked his way south. Eventually his hands slid around my cock and stroked it languorously. At the same time, he fastened his lips on his favorite spot at the juncture of my neck and shoulder and gently licked and sucked.

"If you keep this up, you might have to carry me out of the shower when we're done!" I warned.

"You _really_ want me to stop?"

My reaction was an embarrassing whine and a frantic thrust against his hands. He let out a sinful laugh and rubbed my member faster. He suddenly bit down on my shoulder, and I came all over his hands with a shout. Shuddering in reaction, I found myself leaning most of my weight against the smaller man again.

"Oof! This was easier when you were still shorter than me, Sasquatch! Come on, bend your head, kiddo."

I did feel like a little kid again as he washed my hair, maneuvered me out of the shower, and toweled me down. He then helped me over to the bed and tucked me in.

I caught his hand as he tried to move away and gestured toward his still-erect groin. "Wait, Dee, what about you?"

My big brother smiled down at me ruefully. "Don't worry 'bout it, Sammy. I'm gonna take a quick shower myself while there's still some hot water left."

"Okay, but come back quick. And don' spank off in the shower! 'M gonna take care of you."

"Sure you will, Sleeping Beauty." He returned to the small bathroom.

I nestled back against the pillow drowsily and prepared to wait. Staying awake was a challenge, but few things could out-stubborn me. Something which Dean should've been aware of.

He came out about five minutes later and seemed surprised that I was awake. "What're you still doing up? You need to rest, little brother."

I quickly stifled a yawn, hoping he didn't notice. "Told you I'm not that bad. Between the aspirin, the hot water, and _you_ , nothing's hurting anymore. Just need a few hours to recharge the batteries, and I'll be good as new. But I've still got enough energy to blow you before going to sleep. So c'mere, big brother."

I held out a hand. Dean took it and let himself be pulled down beside me. He was only half-hard now, but I'd rectify that soon enough. He reached up to cradle my face between his hands and kiss me softly. I kissed back with more passion, running my tongue along his full lips until they parted. I slid my tongue inside and let it dance around his. His long lashes swept down to cover his green eyes as he sighed into my mouth.

I skimmed a hand down his flat abdomen until I could wrap my fingers around his cock. It stiffened as I stripped it rapidly and thumbed his slit. It twitched and began to leak pre-ejaculate when I ran a nail around the edge of his glans and along the ridged frenulum.

I pulled away from my brother's mouth and dropped down so I could lick a line up his shaft. He groaned and dug his fists into the sheets as I painted wet stripes along his length with my tongue before engulfing half of it in my mouth. I sucked and lapped enthusiastically until my lips and his cock were slick and sloppy with spit. There was something about the taste and feel of his skin I couldn't get enough of.

As my lover whispered curses and gave short thrusts into my mouth, I lightly scratched my nails down his scrotum. I then slipped a caressing hand beneath his balls and rubbed his perineum. One of my fingertips lightly circled his puckered entrance, and he went still. I let his member slide from my mouth as I looked up and met his eyes. They were darkened, but fortunately it appeared more with desire than memories.

Still, I began to say, "Dee, you alright? I wasn't going to—"

"No, 'sokay. Go ahead," he assured me. "I'm good. Not letting the bad shit take charge, remember?"

I gave him a long stare to be sure he really was fine before swallowing him down deep enough to almost gag. As I suckled his cock, I pressed a finger teasingly against the tight furl of his hole. His breathing hitched when I slowly breached the outer ring of muscle and pushed into his moist heat. I curled the tip of my finger and rubbed it against his pleasure spot while dragging my teeth up his shaft. Dean grasped my head and pulled my head back until only the head of his cock rested in my mouth, then shot his load with a gasp.

As I swallowed and licked a few salty drops from my lips, he tugged me up to face him and put his hand on my hard cock. A few quick jerks and I soon spurted onto his hand. He lifted it to his mouth and languidly cleaned his fingers with his tongue. He then gave me a slow, heavy-eyed smile.

"Still doing good, Sammy?" Dean asked as he curled around me and rested his head on my shoulder.

"I'm doing _amazing_ , as long as no one expects me to move right now! And I don't need to ask about you—if you purred any louder, they'd hear it in the next room." I began carding my fingers through the damp spikes of his dark blond hair. "So do you think Pestilence is dead?"

"Dunno. Those angel blades can take out most anything, but we've never tried 'em on a Horseman before. That flash of green light at the end coulda been his, uh, death throes, or it coulda been him getting the hell outta Dodge."

"At the very least he's out of commission now, like Famine and War. If he's not dead though, I hope he can't tell anyone we know about Niveus."

"Shit! I shoulda kept my big fat mouth shut!"

"Don't worry about it. He could be dead or catatonic or something. Or the demons could already suspect something due to Brady's apparent defection. We'll just have to prepare for that contingency." I stroked his back soothingly.

"I guess. Well, I wanna get an early start tomorrow. So time to sleep, baby."

The sky was just starting to lighten when we left the hotel in the morning. After a brief stop at Dunkin Donuts to pick up coffee and breakfast, we pointed the Impala westward. It was a little shy of noon by the time we arrived at Bobby's house.

The older man waited until we dropped off our bags in our room and grabbed a couple drinks. "Well? D'ya have it?"

Dean took a swig of his cold beer and sighed happily. "Yeah, we got the ring. Ganked Pestilence, though we're not sure if that took him out. Sam was feeling a bit unsteady after the Horseman put his whammy on him, so we crashed for the night to let him recover."

"Good to hear. You can put it in the vault downstairs with the others. No word yet from Crowley. I got in touch with the guy who took over Caleb's business, and he's gonna hook us up with the firepower we need. Rufus is gonna pick the stuff up and bring it over. He should be here by tonight. I figured this job is big enough that we could use the extra help.

"I also got a line 'bout the Niveus facility. I ain't the computer whiz Sam is, so I reached out to this guy I know, Frank Devereaux. Frank's a real grassy knoll, tinfoil hat type, but he can hack just 'bout anything, and he owes me. He said he should have the info by tonight or tomorrow morning."

"We're going to need to do more than just destroy their inventory of the vaccine. We also need to make sure they can't make more," I pointed out. "Can Frank help us with taking out their electronic files, research, all that?"

"I'll call him up and ask. Until we hear back from him though, there ain't a whole lot we can do right now. So after lunch, why don't you both take Adam out back and give him some self-defense lessons? Kid's getting restless, and the three of you could use the chance to get to know each other better. And speaking of lunch—Dean, you up for cooking, or do I need to rustle something up?"

"I can handle lunch. And good idea 'bout Adam. We should spend more time with him. Sam, wanna help me in here?" Dean stretched and ambled into the kitchen.

I helped him put together cheesesteaks and onion rings, though my assistance mainly consisted of slicing the onions, peppers, and mushrooms and keeping him company. Adam followed his nose into the kitchen as Dean was frying the onion rings. At twenty years old, our half-brother had a typical college student's appetite, which meant inhaling anything free and halfway edible.

Once the kid reached the finger-licking stage, I looked over at him. "Bobby says you're feeling a bit stir-crazy. Dean and I are going outside to practice. You interested in joining us? Bobby's got an informal shooting range out behind all the junk, and there's a grassy area that's good for sparring. We can start showing you a thing or two."

Adam glanced up from his plate. "Yeah, I'd like that. I know this sort of house-arrest thing is for my own safety, but there's only so much time I can spend watching TV or reading Bobby's weird books."

"Great, kid. First though, you get to clean the dishes. Penalty for being the youngest." Dean grinned at him. "We'll grab some stuff and meet you down here."

The two of us changed upstairs into the clothes we usually sparred in and grabbed our pistols, plus another one for Adam. We snagged some water bottles on our way through the kitchen and met him by the back door, then led him to the far end of the property, where there were several coffee tins set up on top of a length of old wooden fence. A nearby oil drum was half-filled with more cans and bottles to use as additional targets.

"So, you know anything 'bout guns?" Dean asked.

"I had a BB gun when I was, like, eight, but I know that's not the same. Bobby's been showing me how to disassemble and clean some of his though," the younger man said.

Dean handed him a black handgun. "This here's a Glock Seventeen semi-auto—same gun than most cops carry. This here's the safety switch—always keep this on until you're gonna shoot. Don't point the gun at anything you ain't prepared to destroy. Keep your trigger finger up on the slide or barrel—only put it on the actual trigger when you sight your target. And make sure you know what you're shooting at and what's around it. Got it?

"Okay, you wanna stand with your legs apart, non-dominant one in front, knees bent, and lean slightly forward. You're more stable this way and present less of a target. Wrap your main hand around the grip and extend that arm, but don't lock your elbow. Brace it with your other hand and keep that arm bent. Aim down the barrel and line the front sight up with your target. Now squeeze the trigger slow and smooth . . ."

I felt a bit of déjà vu watching my older brother instruct Adam, remembering him giving me similar lessons years ago. This was a marked improvement over the first time we met who we thought was our young half-brother. That time Dean had been angry and standoffish. But he seemed far more accepting of the kid now, and I couldn't help another small spike of jealousy.

Dean looked over at me and raised an eyebrow before turning back. "Doing awesome, man. Keep going until you've hit all the cans or gone through the clip. I'll be right back."

He then walked to me and pulled my head down until my forehead rested against his. "Hey, no need for that! Adam's a nice kid, but he's no threat to you. Yeah, he's our long-lost youngest brother, and I'm glad to have a chance to do right by him. But you're _everything_ , and ain't nothing gonna change that! Got it?" He gave me a swift but passionate kiss and stepped away.

I quickly glanced over at Adam, but he was still concentrating on the targets. We watched him shoot through two sets of cans and bottles, and then shot a set each ourselves. After unloading and putting the guns aside, Dean led the three of us over to a nearby grassy spot.

"Alright, now for a bit more physical training. Sam, you seemed to enjoy teaching Fake Adam the first time around, so why don't you take this? Plus I don't wanna risk going all _Deer Hunter_ on the kid accidentally." He sat down under a tree at the edge of the practice area.

I moved towards the center and beckoned towards our younger brother. "What we're going to work on is pure self-defense. The goal is to break free from an attacker as quickly as possible, and then you run away and get help if you can. Only go for a gun as a last resort—it won't work on most supernatural targets without the right type of ammo, and you're aware of the issues with shooting a regular person. Once you've got this down, we can teach you actual fighting techniques later, if you're interested."

I demonstrated and guided him through methods to break holds, block attacks, and inflict incapacitating strikes. We worked for about an hour, until Adam started to flag. Our older brother looked on and called out suggestions while cleaning the three pistols.

I took a five-minute breather, and then Dean and I began to spar, exchanging punches and kicks and attempting to grapple or throw each other. Our competitive streaks reared up, and we were soon going at each other at full speed, only pulling potentially lethal shots. We both eventually collapsed in the shade near our younger brother.

Adam had watched our practice session with enthusiasm. "Wow, that was _so_ cool! What was all that?"

Dean pulled off his t-shirt and mopped the sweat off his face with it before flopping back with his head resting against my knees. "Dunno—Winchester style, I guess? Dad learned the Marine Combat Curriculum when he was in the Corps during 'Nam, and he picked up other stuff after he started hunting. He taught me, and I taught Sam. We've picked up some new tricks as well over the years."

"And you can teach me how to fight like that?"

"If you really wanna learn, sure. It'll give Sam more chances to be the teacher instead of the student for a change." My older brother grinned up at me. "Give us another ten, fifteen minutes to cool down, and then we'll get back to your lessons."

Adam hesitated for a moment. "Um, Dean . . . The reason you didn't want to teach me the hand-to-hand stuff . . . Was there something I—"

"No, nothing like that," Dean quickly interrupted. "About two months ago, I . . . I was almost raped. And that also brought back memories of what happened to me in Hell. Since then, I've been kinda squirrely 'bout being touched by anyone 'cept Sam, and I didn't wanna risk freaking out on you or something. Nothing personal, dude—I'm still not comfortable even with Bobby being touchy-feely."

"Damn, I didn't know! I'm really sorry about that." Adam took a swig from his bottle of water and then looked at the both of us. "Were you guys mad when you first found out about me?"

"A little, but not at you," I replied. "We were angry that Dad never told us about you and never gave us the chance to meet you or your mom."

"I gotta admit, I didn't take the news as well as Sam." Dean looked embarrassed. "It was bad enough finding out Dad had this other family, but to hear that he took you to baseball games and the park and shit? He never did _dad_ stuff like that with either of us, and that burned. I know it wasn't really you, but I still shouldn't have acted like I did."

Adam leaned forward. "Our dad might've taken me to a few ball games, but at least you got to _see_ him more than a couple of times a year! It was always just me and my mom, and she had to put in long hours at the hospital to support the two of us. Dad usually showed up for my birthday, but we never got to see him over any of the holidays. And he'd maybe show up once or twice more throughout the year, but never for more than three or four days."

"Trust me, you weren't really missing much," I told him drily. "He was a great hunter, but John Winchester was a pretty shitty father. I know I was usually happier when he was gone than when he was there."

Dean sat up indignantly. "Hey now, don't fucking say that! He did the best he could to take care of us and keep us safe and—"

"No, he didn't, Dean," I said gently. "Dad put hunting and revenge before any of us. He might've been a decent father before Mom's death, I don't know. But _you_ were the one who took care of us, who made sure we had food and clothes and went to school and all that, even when you were still a kid yourself. And he might've been around for us more than for Adam, but he was still gone more often than not. Even when he was there, he was busy either trying to turn us into little soldiers or drinking his problems away.

"And his idea of keeping us safe was to keep us all in the dark, and we know how well _that_ turned out for Adam and Kate! Maybe if they'd known about the supernatural, they could've protected themselves. Or if we'd known about them, maybe we could've helped them somehow. Hell, think how different things might've gone down if he'd told us what he knew about the Yellow-Eyed Demon from the beginning!"

"That's enough, Sam!" My older brother's expression was stern. "Yeah, Dad made mistakes. The man was dealt a goddamn shitty hand, and maybe he lost his way. But I wouldn't fucking _be_ here right now if it weren't for him. And _sure_ , it woulda been nice if he threw a ball with us or took us to the movies or something once in a while, like Bobby did. But the skills he _did_ teach us have kept us alive and helped us make a difference. So I ain't gonna let you bad-mouth him to our new little brother."

"Sorry, Dee." I lifted a hand to his shoulder and squeezed. My opinion of our father was unchanged, but I didn't want to start a fight with my brother over it. He settled back down with his head in my lap, and I gently scratched my fingers through his damp blond hair.

Adam was looking concerned. "Listen, guys, I didn't mean to start something . . ."

Dean waved a hand nonchalantly. "Don't worry 'bout it, kid. This argument's been going on since Sammy was a teenager, and we ain't killed each other over it yet."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The doorbell rang a couple hours after dinner. Dean got up from the couch, where the two of us and Adam were trashing some cheesy Syfy monster flick, and went to answer the door.

"Hey, Rufus! We've been waiting for you. You hungry, man? There's still plenty of food, and I can heat something up for you."

Rufus stepped inside with a large, heavy-looking duffle bag. "Much obliged, Dean. Hey Bobby, you got someplace secure I can stow this bag? C-4 ain't exactly something you wanna leave on the dining room table."

Bobby wheeled over from the study. "'Bout time you got here, you old fool! Sam, why don't you take the bag down to the panic room for safe-keeping. We've already heard back from Frank, so once you've finished stuffing your face, we can hash out some plans."

I took the duffle downstairs and set it in the center of the panic room. When I returned upstairs, Rufus was making inroads with a plate of pork chops, roasted vegetables, and wild rice, while Dean entertained him with a description of Gabriel's _Casa Erotica_ video. Once he was done with his meal, we moved into the study, where Bobby, Castiel, and Adam were waiting.

I set my laptop up on the desk and turned it so everyone could view the screen. "Bobby's buddy Frank has sent us blueprints and detailed floorplans of Niveus' main facility. He also got us locations and codes for the alarms and schedules for the guards. He wasn't able to access much information on the vaccine itself, but he did manage to find where everything is supposed to be stored. Tomorrow he's going to send me a virus to load into their network to delete all files related to this project."

"The way we see it, we gotta take out three different targets to nuke this fucking vaccine. There's the finished product in the warehouse, the raw materials in the manufacturing area, and the research in the labs." Dean pulled up each location on the blueprints as he spoke. "We plant the explosives in the designated spots and pull the fire alarm to get everyone outta the building, then blow it all up by remote before the fire trucks show up.

"We're gonna need to split up to get everything set up quickly, though not more than two groups since there ain't a lot of us. There's gonna be demonic assclowns mixed in with the human employees there, so there should be someone in each group that can tell the meat suits from the regular folk. I'm thinking Cas and Rufus in one and me and Sam in the other. Bobby will stay with the van to monitor the security feed and keep us informed 'bout what's going down."

"What about me?" Adam asked. "What can I do to help?"

"Adam, you don't have to get involved—" I started to say.

"Bullshit! That motherfucker Zachariah already got me involved," he retorted. "Besides, I'll be just as screwed as everyone else out there if you don't succeed. But unlike them, I know what's going on!"

"We're not doubting your willingness. But you're not trained to handle something like this," I said. "Besides human security, we're going to be fighting demons. A couple hours of shooting and self-defense practice doesn't make you ready for that."

"Listen, if you're dead-set on helping out, maybe you can come and stay with Bobby in the van," Dean said in response to Adam's crestfallen expression. "He could probably use another set of hands, and he can send you in to get us or something if there's a problem. Now, did I miss anything else before we get into the details?"

"Dean, you might wanna let Rufus in on your little secret first," Bobby pointed out. "We don't want him losing it and trying to shoot your damn head off tomorrow night if you need to do something."

Rufus looked puzzled. "What you talking 'bout, Bobby? Why would I wanna shoot— _whoa_!"

He staggered back in surprise as Dean's form rippled and shifted into the female version of himself he'd shown Bobby two months ago. I stepped in front of my brother when the older hunter's hand jerked towards his belt. That made him pause, as did Bobby's shake of his head.

Rufus glanced around at all of us in confusion. "I take it, since no one _else_ is going for a weapon, that we're supposed to be kosher 'bout a damn _shifter_ in the room?"

"This shapeshifter has always been here, Rufus. He's the same man you met two years ago, the one you helped with Bela and who helped you when we ran into War. He's been my brother since I was nine months old, after the original Dean died with our Mom, and Dad found him and took him in," I told him.

Dean, now back to his normal shape, moved up beside me. "Is this gonna be a problem, dude?"

Rufus sat down abruptly. "Gimme a minute, kid! This ain't something you can expect a man to take in right away. So . . . a shifter _and_ a hunter, huh? Bobby, did you know 'bout him this whole time?"

"Nope, didn't find out until a coupla months ago. He and his idjit dad were real good 'bout keeping _that_ under wraps. But this _is_ the same boy I helped raise since he was six years old. Don't matter that he's not human, got it?" Bobby replied.

"If it would help, I can vouch that this _is_ the Dean you know and worked with, not an imposter," Castiel put in.

Rufus sighed. "Alright, fine. So, where exactly do we need to plant the C-4 at each of these targets?"

We examined the blueprints and worked out plans for the next several hours, until Bobby declared we were done for the night. He offered to put Rufus up in his own bedroom, since he now usually slept in the study. After clearing the crumpled paper and beer bottles from the study, Dean and I retired to our room.

"Man, I still ain't used to all these people knowing 'bout me," Dean commented after his nightly shower. "I mean, for the longest time it was just me and Dad, and then just me. But now there's you, Bobby, Cas, Adam, Jody, and Rufus."

"Don't forget Missouri. I'm pretty sure she already knows too."

"Probably. And what really gets me is that no one's tried to gank me yet!"

I put my hands on his trim waist and pulled him to me. "Because they know the quality of man you are, and being a shifter doesn't change that."

He smiled up at me. "Thanks, Sammy."

My brother stepped in close enough to push our groins together and wrapped one hand around my shoulder and the other around the back of my neck. He used that hand to push my head down so he could slot his ruddy lips against mine. As he licked and sucked at my lips, he slowly rubbed his hardening cock against mine.

I groaned into his lush mouth and tightened my arms around him, then fell backward onto the bed, landing with my lover on top of me. He laughed down at me, green eyes bright, and began rolling his pelvis, sliding his member over mine, both of them slick with pre-cum. I took a firm grasp on his lean hips and started thrusting rapidly against him, increasing the delicious friction between us. He gasped and held onto my shoulders tightly.

"Hur—hurry up, Sam! I wanna cum with you!"

I bucked my hips up harder while he pushed down on me, until we were rutting against each other frantically and moaning quietly. He managed to lean down and bit the base of my neck hard, and I came over both of our cocks with a muffled shout. A moment later, I felt him shudder and pulse against me. I slid my arms around his back and pulled down until he was sprawled atop me.

"Gross! It's all sticky," Dean complained, his face scrunching.

"Shut up and take your cuddling like a man," I told him, amused by his adorably disgusted expression and uncomfortable squirming.

The latter didn't have the effect the other man intended—instead, my cock began to perk up again as he rubbed against me. I rolled us over so that he was on his back and slid down the bed until my face was even with his groin. I dipped my head and proceeded to lick our mingled semen off his skin, starting at his thighs and moving inwards. He gasped and arched his back when my tongue reached his testicles and leisurely swabbed them clean.

As I was about to start in on his cock, he caught my head in his hands and held it still. "Wait a second, Sammy. Swing your legs up this way first. I . . . I wanna put my mouth on you at the same time."

"Oh? _Oh_. Are you su—"

"You don't hafta ask that _every_ time, dude. I know what I wanna do. Now come on!"

I swiftly complied, shifting position so that my feet were up against the headboard. As I swiped my tongue along his shaft, I felt my lover nosing through my pubic hair and mouthing at my scrotum. He then swallowed me down to the root, and I sighed in pleasure before lapping at his glans. He began humming _Whole Lotta Love_ , swirling his tongue around my member and scratching his nails along my balls in time with the music.

Despite having ejaculated only a few minutes earlier, I had to exert some self-control to prevent myself from climaxing prematurely—it had been _too_ long since I'd enjoyed the incredible sensation of my brother deep-throating me. I drew as much of his shaft into my mouth as I could and bobbed up and down on his length. At the same time, I rubbed a couple fingers back and forth along his perineum and around his puckered entrance. He whined deep in his throat and bucked his hips at that, and I increased the speed and pressure of both mouth and fingers.

Dean in return hummed louder and sucked harder, while his fingers rolled and massaged my testicles. I felt my balls tighten as a growing wave of ecstasy surged through me, and I reached my free hand down to hold his head in place as I spurted down his throat. As he swallowed around my member, I thrust two fingers into his tight, wet hole and pressed them against his prostrate while sucking on the head of his cock. He cried out softly and shot his seed into my mouth, then fell back against the pillows.

I swallowed the thick, salty fluid and turned around until I could rest my head beside his. "God, that was amazing! I didn't realize how much I missed your mouth on me like that!"

He leaned over and licked a couple stray drops of cum from my lips before kissing me, his chest rumbling against mine. "It _was_ pretty awesome! And I missed doing this too, Sammy. Don't worry, there'll be plenty more from now on though."

Bobby and Rufus left early the next morning to pick up the virus program from Frank. While waiting for their return, Dean and I spent a couple hours preparing the C-4 charges and assembling the detonators. We'd rarely used anything like this before, but the exhaustive training from our ex-Marine father had included handling explosive materiel. Adam observed curiously and eventually helped with the detonators.

Once the older hunters returned, we loaded everything into Bobby's van and the Impala. Cas and Adam elected to ride with us after Dean pointed out that Bobby and Rufus were going to spend the entire trip bickering like an old married couple. It was too early in the day when we arrived in the city to assault Niveus—our plan was to wait until late at night to reduce the number of human bystanders present, like when we went after Brady. We booked three rooms in a nearby motel, then split up to reconnoiter the area and acquire supplies.

With Castiel accompanying me for swift transport and backup, I snuck into the main office to access their network backbone and server room in order to tap into their video feed and later upload the virus. Dean and Rufus—the one with his obvious talent for disguise and the other with his apparent ability to lie like a cheap rug—explored the campus to check out the security and entry points of the various buildings firsthand. Bobby procured maintenance uniforms and carts to provide us a cover, and Adam went with him as an extra set of hands. We met up afterwards at a local diner and then retired to the motel to rest up.

Dean sat at the table in the small kitchenette in our room, several of our pistols dissembled in front of him. His strong hands moved gracefully over each piece as he cleaned them in an almost meditative state. I lay back on the king bed and watched him.

"Penny for your thoughts, Sam?"

I started at the sudden break in the quiet. "Just watching you. You always look so serene doing that, almost Zen. Kind of the same expression as when you're working through your katas."

He shrugged, looking a little self-conscious at the attention. "Enjoy it while it lasts, I guess. Tonight's gonna be anything but peaceful."

I waited until he'd put the guns back together and beckoned him over. "I'm still not sure if getting a single like usual was a smart idea. What if Adam comes in here? I mean, he knows we're sharing a bed at Bobby's, but that can be blamed on the limitations of the old man's furnishings. This will be harder to explain away."

He curled up around me and slid an arm over my waist. "I didn't wanna try cramming the two of us onto some crappy double bed. Unless you wanted to sleep separately?"

"No, of course not! Hell, I'm not sure if I _could_ fall asleep by myself anymore."

"Didn't think so! Listen, I told you before—I ain't hiding us from him. He's gonna find out sooner or later, and we'll deal with it when it happens. It'll suck if he can't handle it, but our . . . _thing_ is more important."

I smirked at him. " _Thing_? It won't kill you to say the word 'relationship,' you know."

"Shaddup, Dr. Phil. By the way, I wanna hear you call Bobby an 'old man' to his face."

I laughed. "No thanks—I don't have a death wish! Now try to get some sleep. We've only got a couple more hours before we need to head out."

It was a little after midnight when we pulled into the Niveus lot and parked near the warehouse. Bobby began surveying the surrounding buildings through a pair of binoculars while Dean, Rufus, and I quickly changed into the maintenance uniforms.

"Alright, here's a quick reminder of what we're gonna do," Dean said once we were dressed. "The warehouse and manufacturing material storage are almost adjacent to each other, so Sam and I will take both of those. Cas and Rufus will hit the labs they used for R&D on the vaccine. We'll keep in contact through Bobby, and he'll let us know if—"

" _Balls_!" Bobby suddenly spat. "They're loading up one of the delivery trucks at the warehouse right now! Can't make out the labels on the boxes, but it's too much to hope that it's some other product."

Castiel looked over at the loading bay. "The one overseeing the packing of the truck is a demon."

"That settles it then. Dunno if they intentionally moved up their timeline 'cause of us, and it don't much matter," Rufus said.

" _Sonofabitch_! Okay, change of plans," Dean announced. "Cas, you first take Adam back to the motel, then you and Rufus pop into the labs as discussed. The demons should be concentrated in the warehouse, so hopefully you'll be in and outta there fast. Once you're done, join in on us—we'll probably need the reinforcements. Bobby, you'll need to make sure that damn truck can't leave and make some kinda diversion so me and Sam can get into the warehouse. Sneaking's out now—we'll hafta hit our targets hard and fast."

"What the hell, Dean!" Adam burst out. "I'm not going back to the motel!"

"Listen dude, it was one thing to help out when the plan was to be stealthy and try to avoid the bad guys. But subtle's left the fucking building, and you ain't equipped to go _mano a mano_ with a goddamn demon," Dean told him impatiently. "It's better if you stay outta this now."

"No way! You can't afford to waste the time to send me back, and you're gonna need all the help you can get," he retorted. "I might not be the trained badass you guys are, but I can drive the van and free Bobby up to do something more important. And I'm just as capable of wielding a Super Soaker as anyone else."

"Let him help, Dean. We don't have the time to argue. Adam, you stay with the van and do _exactly_ what Bobby says. Got it?" I said sternly.

Rufus and I each grabbed a bag of explosives, not bothering anymore with the carts. Cas put his hand on Rufus' shoulder, and the two disappeared with a soft fluttering sound. Dean and I crept over to some bushes not far from the warehouse entrance and hid ourselves to wait.

Adam joined Bobby in the van, and they drove over to the loading dock. They swerved the van in front of the delivery truck, ensuring that it couldn't leave nor that any other vehicle could enter the bay. As the workers by the truck scattered, the van's window rolled down, and a bright orange muzzle emerged.

"Hey, dumbass!" our half-brother shouted, and a stream of holy water hit the supervising demon in the face.

We darted for the entrance as the demon roared in pain. Before the door closed behind us, we heard Bobby begin to chant, " _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis_ —"

Inside the warehouse, pandemonium reigned. Some of the workers were crying out for help or screaming, while others were chasing and attacking them wildly. A handful of workers were wielding syringes instead of biting or clawing at their victims. Each person injected turned rabidly aggressive within minutes, which was a far cry from what we'd seen years ago in River Grove.

"Fuck, they must've done something to increase the virus' potency!" I exclaimed.

"Sam, exorcism! The cocksuckers with the needles are demons!" Dean shouted, his nostrils flaring.

As I pulled out my phone, I asked, "What about the infected?"

"No cure, right? So we use _Zombieland_ rule number two on the Croats!" Suiting actions to words, he drew his 1911 and started firing on the assailants.

I pressed the Play button on the screen of my phone, and the _Rituale Romanum_ issued from the speakers at full volume. The demonic workers convulsed in agony before vomiting black smoke and collapsing. This, and the gunfire, turned the Croats' attention towards us, and they lumbered in our direction. I set the bag and phone down, pulled out my Taurus, and joined Dean in shooting them down.

"Hey, geniuses!" my brother yelled at the workers no longer under attack. "Unless you _really_ wanna hang around for this shitty remake of _28 Days Later_ , get the hell outta here!"

At that, the survivors dashed for the nearest exits. We were able to take down all of the infected before any got close to us. Once we'd ascertained that none of the formerly possessed were still alive, we set the explosive charges at strategic points in the area and made our way further into the warehouse. We'd decided earlier that it was safest to destroy the entire building, in case any of the tainted vaccine had been moved.

Or as Dean had put it, "Nuke the entire site from orbit—it's the only way to be sure."

We tangled with three more groups of demons and Croats as we planted the C-4 throughout the warehouse. Fortunately the exorcism recording took the demons out of the equation almost immediately, and most of the infected weren't difficult to gun down. A few managed to get in close, but the demon-killing knife and angel blade worked just as well on them.

After seeding the warehouse with sufficient explosives, we used a large loading door to cross over into the storage area of the manufacturing facility. We found a row of large walk-in freezers along one wall, where we surmised the virus stock and other biological materiel were kept. Dean stood guard outside while I entered each one and set the charges. The detonators on these particular blocks of C-4 were equipped with more powerful receivers, and we left the freezer doors open to prevent the heavy steel from blocking the signal.

I was planting charges in the last freezer when I heard shouting and gunshots outside, much louder than before. I snatched up my gun and the demon knife and bolted for the freezer door. I found Dean backed into the doorway, attempting to fend off a gang of nearly fifteen Croats. A couple were down and unmoving, but the rest were rushing forward, eyeing him hungrily.

I tapped my brother's back to let him know I was there and then brought my arms up over his left shoulder to aim at the infected beyond. We fired almost simultaneously and were able to make a hole big enough to escape the doorway. We immediately went back to back, watching the oncoming horde and shooting at the nearest attackers.

"This _really_ doesn't look good!" I said worriedly.

"Sorry, Sam! These bastards almost literally came outta nowhere. Think the damn demons are cheating." Dean suddenly raised his voice. "Hey Cas! Uh, now would be a really awesome time for some backup, man!"

Four of the Croats dashed forward at that moment, and we both were busy trying to fight them off for several minutes. But I realized I could hear commotion and shots coming from the back of the group of infected. I tapped my brother's shoulder and pointed in the direction of the noise. He nodded in understanding, and we began to clear a path towards our friends.

We found Castiel and Rufus, both armed with shotguns, firing on the infected between them and us. A tall, beefy Croat forced himself between Dean and me and knocked me over. Before either my brother or I could react to the threat, Cas thrust the muzzle of his shotgun against the Croat's temple and blew his head away pointblank.

"Look at you, Cas! I didn't think you knew how to use a gun," I said as I took his offered hand and got back on my feet.

"Actually, these things can be useful," the angel admitted.

There was a crackling sound, and then Bobby's voice came over our walkie-talkies. "You 'bout set up in there?"

"Sure thing, Bobby. Just cleaning up the last few of these crazy zombie wannabes," Rufus replied after smashing an infected worker in the face with the butt of his gun.

"Then can we commit our act of domestic terrorism already and go? It's only a matter of time before one of the workers who got out calls the police. And _that's_ a complication we don't need!" Bobby said testily.

We rushed back into the warehouse and headed for the loading bay. As we ran past, I pulled the first fire alarm I saw. We made it outside without encountering any more demons or infected. Bobby had moved his van away from the now abandoned delivery truck and parked it next to the Impala.

As we jogged up, Bobby told us, "I had Adam set a few charges inside that truck. That'll take care of any vaccine there and render that loading bay unusable. How much time we got?"

"From what Frank sent us, it takes the nearest fire company approximately seven minutes to arrive once the alarm is activated," I responded. "It took us a couple of minutes to get outside, so we've probably got about five minutes before they show up."

"Okay, Cas, can you check to make sure there ain't any uninfected humans still inside? Once we're sure the buildings are clear, we can blow the charges and get the hell outta here," Dean said.

The seraph nodded and disappeared. I opened my laptop and immediately started the process to upload the virus into the Niveus servers to delete all files related to the Croatoan "vaccine." While waiting for the upload to complete, I scanned through the security videos for the past several hours to make sure no other delivery trucks had been sent out.

Cas popped back just as I was finishing. "I can confirm that the affected buildings are empty of innocent bystanders," he said.

"The virus has been uploaded and should be destroying all the relevant files as we speak. And luckily that truck there seemed to be the first they were going to send out, so we don't need to hunt down any other deliveries," I added.

"Awesome! Here goes nothing." Dean pressed the trigger on the remote transmitter. "Big bada-BOOM!"

There was a series of resounding cracks and then a deafening roar as the warehouse exploded, as well as smaller bangs from the manufacturing and laboratory buildings. Flames engulfed what was left of the warehouse, while smoke poured out of the other two buildings. In the distance, the sound of sirens could be faintly heard. We took that as our cue to leave and made our circuitous way back to the motel.

It was too late to go a bar, so we congregated in Bobby's and Rufus' room for a few celebratory rounds of hunter's helper. We filled the others in on how each of our separate portions of the mission went over shots of whiskey, and then Dean raved about the explosion itself. By the time the two of us staggered over to our room, we'd had enough to drink to make us both loose and giggly.

Dean immediately shoved me against the door once it was closed and kissed me hungrily. Innumerable salt-and-burns had shown me that my brother was a bit of a pyro, and apparently blowing things up revved him up even more. He pulled away from my mouth just long enough to yank my shirts off, then attacked my neck hungrily.

I grabbed him by the hips to keep him against me. "Mmm, Dee! I was really glad to see you taking charge back there in the warehouse, just like you used to. It was _really_ hot!"

Dean's response was to step away, take my hands, and tug me over to the bed. He then pushed me over, unfastened my jeans, and pulled them and my shoes off. He waited until I swung my feet up before climbing onto the foot of the bed and prowling up my body until he was straddling my boxer-clad hips. He bent down and set his lush mouth against mine, his lips now moving languidly and tenderly. He slowly kissed my lips open and licked inside my mouth.

I moaned as my brain cells began shutting down, and I reached up to try to pull him down. My brother caught my hands and pressed them back against the bed.

"Just lay back, Sammy, and lemme take care of you," he murmured.

I nodded and relaxed, and he once again caught my mouth with his. His hands slid up my sides, fingertips ghosting over my ribs, and my skin shivered at the barely-there touch. He laid soft kisses along the line of my jaw before running his tongue around the curve of my ear and nibbled the lobe. He repeated this on the other side of my face and then kissed his way down the column of my throat. Meanwhile, his hands gently caressed my torso, tracing the muscles of my shoulders, chest, and abdomen.

I had to grip the sheets tightly to keep from moving under this loving torment. I closed my eyes and felt him kiss across my clavicle, before his lips moved down my pectoral muscles and circled my nipples. He kissed each small bud lightly before flicking them with the tip of his tongue, while his hands ran teasingly just under the waistband of my boxers.

I opened my eyes and looked down at my lover. "Hey, how come you still got your clothes on?"

"You wanna watch me undress, Sam?"

He smiled as I nodded eagerly and got up off the bed. He kept his wide green eyes on mine as he slowly removed each article of clothing, each movement graceful and sensuous. It wasn't quite a full-on strip tease, but my cock reacted to each reveal of pale, freckled skin as enthusiastically as if I were sitting in front of a tacky stage with a fistful of dollar bills. When he was down to nothing but his amulet and silver ring, he grasped the hem of my boxers and pulled them off in one smooth motion. He then paused to admire my erect cock, which was curving towards my stomach and seeping clear fluid.

Dean's full lips curled up in a smirk. "Liking what you see, darling?"

Before I could answer, he climbed back on top of me, this time straddling my thighs. He leaned over and, starting at the hollow of my throat, peppered kisses down the center of my chest and abdomen while lightly scratching his nails down my sides. He paused to dip his tongue in my navel, then licked his way down the trail of fine dark hair leading to my groin.

He sat back up before his talented mouth reached my cock and instead rubbed his fingers up my inner thighs until they could fondle my testicles. He played with them for a couple minutes before wrapping one hand around my shaft and leisurely starting to stroke up and down its length.

"Shit, sweetheart! It still gets me sometimes just how goddamn _big_ you are. I mean, I ain't exactly small, but your damn cock makes my hand look fucking dainty," the other man crooned as he jacked me steadily. "How did any of the girls you were with before get their tiny hands around this great big dick, baby? Could any of 'em fit all of you in their mouths, or even in their fucking pussies?"

I groaned as the combination of his dirty talk, endearments, and hands eroded my self-control. " _Please_ , Dee, I can't hold back anymore! I've got to touch you now!"

He indicated his consent, and I enveloped his hard cock in my hand and began stroking it in sync with the movement of his hand on my member. I matched his pace as he sped up, and we both rocked our hips to push our shafts into the other's hand. We were breathing heavily as we jerked each off faster and faster, until I came with a stifled shout and felt my brother pulsing over my fingers. He leaned over me and gasped for a few minutes before staggering off and returning with a damp washcloth.

Dean flopped down next to me after cleaning us off. "Thanks, Sammy. For letting me take charge here too."

"No big deal, Dee. I liked it—you seemed more like your usual self. Just don't start blowing random shit up to get _your_ rocks off!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The bombing of Niveus Pharmaceuticals was all over the news the next day, but the authorities had no clue about who was responsible. Thanks to wards painted on our skins and vehicles, our images came out blurry and indistinct on the security cameras, and we'd made sure to wear gloves while assembling and planting the explosives. We returned to Sioux Falls reasonably confident that the explosion couldn't be traced back to us.

Later that afternoon, I was in Bobby's study, trying to sort and file some of his papers, when my phone rang. Missouri's name appeared on the caller ID.

Her cheerful voice came through as soon as I clicked Answer. "Hello, Sam! How're you doing?"

"Hi, Missouri! Doing pretty well right now. What's going on?"

"Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm on my way. Passing through Omaha right now, so I expect I'll be in Sioux Falls in 'bout three hours."

"That's great! I'll let Dean and Bobby know."

"You tell Dean to save me something from dinner—I do love Mexican! And please clean up the bedroom for me—the hunter in there before wasn't exactly the cleanliest."

"Uh, okay? I guess we'll see you in a couple hours then."

"Sure thing, Sam. Bye!"

I hung up and walked into the kitchen, where Bobby was slamming one of the phones back onto the wall with a growled, "Idjit!"

"Everything okay, man?" I asked.

The older man rubbed his beard irritably. "Just the usual hunter BS—some numbskull got himself in trouble with the local LEOs and needed his 'supervisor' to bail him out. What's up?"

"Missouri just called, and she should be here in a few hours."

"Good. You boys need to get started on those lessons ASAP before you can confront Lucifer. Hmm, Rufus left just after lunch, so I guess we can put her up in my old room. This place is starting to feel like the freaking Holiday Inn."

"Alright. I'll tidy the room up for her after I talk to Dean."

I grabbed a couple beers from the fridge and went outside to look for my brother. I found him bent over the engine of an old, beat-up GTO, humming along to the local mullet rock station on the radio while attacking something with a torque wrench. He was working shirtless, sweat glistening on firm muscles and fair skin.

I scuffed my feet against the gravel as I walked up to alert Dean to my presence. He straightened and turned to me with a smile on his pink lips when I got within a foot of him. I kissed him deeply first, savoring the salty taste of his skin, before handing him one of the beers.

"Thanks, Sam—you're a lifesaver!" He uncapped the bottle and took a long swig, then indicated the wreck behind him. "Found this beauty out here a while ago. She needs a lotta work, but she'll make someone a hell of a sweet ride when I'm done."

"I'll take your word on it, Dean. It just looks like a mess to me," I said. "Anyways, I just heard from Missouri, and she's on her way. She thinks she'll be here around eight. I've got to go clean Bobby's bedroom—Rufus apparently didn't leave it clean enough for her standards."

"She did seem like a bit of a stickler 'bout that shit. D'ya think she'll have a problem staying here? 'Cause Bobby's house ain't ever gonna be featured in fucking _Martha Stewart Living_."

"Yeah, I don't think he's done much since the last time we cleaned up the place. I've been doing a little bit of tidying when I've had the time over the past few days. I'll grab Adam and see how much more we can do before she gets here."

He set the beer down and wiped his hands on a greasy rag. "Good idea. I'll get myself cleaned up and then make sure the kitchen's decent before starting on dinner. Enchiladas sound good?"

I chuckled at that. "Missouri asked to save some for her. She really likes Mexican."

"Huh! It's certainly gonna be interesting with a psychic around."

He led the way into the house and went upstairs for a quick shower. I pulled Adam away from the TV, and we worked to get the house as presentable as we could in a couple of hours. Bobby took the van into town and returned with more groceries just before dinner. Dean made cornbread and Spanish rice to accompany the enchiladas, and we set aside a full plate until Missouri arrived.

She showed up a little past eight o'clock. She parked her car next to the Impala, and we came out to greet her and take her bags.

"Lord, these long drives don't get any easier! Well, lemme take a look at you two, since it's been so long! No need to apologize—I know you've been tangled up dealing with all sorts of dark, dangerous forces. But you boys do look so good now!"

I stepped forward to give her a quick hug. "We're really glad you're here, Missouri. And we appreciate you coming all this way on such short notice."

"I'm happy to help, Sam. Now why don't you lead the way inside?"

Dean and I each picked up a suitcase, and she followed us into the house.

Bobby wheeled out of the study as we came in. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I've heard good things 'bout you, both from John and from the boys here."

"Please, call me Missouri. Thank you for having me, Mr. Singer. This is such a nice house! There's some tragedy and sadness in the past, but the overwhelming feeling I get here is love—first between you and your wife, and then later whenever your boys stayed here. It was nice that they tried to tidy the place up for me."

Bobby looked surprised and pleased. "Well, uh, thanks. And it's just Bobby. Why don't you come into the kitchen while the boys take your bags upstairs? Dean saved you a plate just like you asked. Boy might be a chucklehead sometimes, but he can cook!"

Dean rolled his eyes at the last comment. "I ain't sure if letting the two of 'em gang up on us is gonna be a smart idea," he groused as we dropped the luggage off in the master bedroom.

"It'll be fine. Besides, Missouri never had a problem with _me_." I smirked and dodged his swat as we left the room.

Downstairs, Missouri kept the conversation light while she ate, mostly asking about the salvage business and life in Sioux Falls. Afterward, she asked to speak to just the two of us, so we went out onto the porch. She and I took the two rocking chairs out there, while Dean leaned against the railing.

"Now, I ain't gonna start any lessons tonight. I'll need some rest before I can tackle that," she began. "But I do wanna bring up some things for you to think over before tomorrow.

"First, I'm really glad to see how happy you two are, in spite of everything on your shoulders. I can tell you've finally found each other, and you're committed to being open and honest with one another. The bond between you is mighty powerful, and you need to nurture it and keep it strong. The powers-that-be are so focused on strife between brothers—Michael and Lucifer, Cain and Abel, Moses and Ramses, and so on. But as long as you focus on your love for each other, you can break free from what they expect of you."

"So . . . you don't mind?" I asked. "Because I'm sure you can tell that we've gone beyond just being brothers."

"I could see how you felt 'bout each other when you first came to see me years ago. It wasn't my place to say anything then—you needed to discover the other's true feelings on your own. I know society might not understand, but you two are meant to be together. The bond you share transcends traditional limits—it goes beyond friends or brothers or even lovers. It's truly a beautiful thing."

I felt my cheeks flush at her description of our relationship. When I looked over, I could see Dean blushing as well.

"The other thing I wanna discuss is crucial to not only mastering your abilities, but also succeeding in the mission you've set before yourselves," she continued. "I believe you both must truly accept who _and_ what you really are. I know you boys have been trying to do that and have been trying to help each other with it. But this is gonna take more than just trying."

"Do, or do not. There is no try," my brother interjected with a grin.

"This ain't something to joke 'bout, boy!" Missouri snapped. "In your case, Dean, you need to understand that you're more than just a tamed monster or blunt instrument or whatever other names you or your daddy or anyone else used to put you down. You hafta believe that you have value outside of what your father or brother or some angel wants from you. If you go into that fight thinking you're nothing but cannon fodder, you ain't gonna survive against the Great Evil.

"As for you, Sam, you must make peace with what you've done and what's been done to you. You've made mistakes, child, but you've done your best to atone for 'em. Intentions do matter, and you thought you were doing the right thing. Also remember that the Father of Lies sent his minions to you when you were alone and at your lowest, and they took full advantage of that. It's time to learn to forgive yourself.

"It's also time to accept that while evil was used to change you, it doesn't make you evil or tainted yourself. A demon might've been the cause of your powers, but it can't control what you do with 'em. If you can accept 'em, you can throw the Devil's plans back in his face. But if you persist in this self-hate, you offer him a weakness he can use against you."

She stood and patted both of us on the shoulder. "You think long and hard on what I've said, and what you've been telling each other. You already believe so strongly in one another, so use that to figure out how to believe in yourselves. If you can start to do that, it'll make teaching you what you need so much easier."

With that, she went inside and left the two of us by ourselves.

"C'mere, Dee." I held out my hands and, when Dean moved within reach, pulled him down into my lap.

"I dunno if this chair is meant to hold two dudes our size," he commented as he tried to get comfortable.

"It'll be fine." I slipped an arm around his waist once he settled in place. "So, is she right? Are you going into this battle thinking you're expendable?"

"It ain't something I'm _planning_ on, Sammy. But my job's gonna be keeping Satan distracted while you get in there and lock him up. If I hafta take one for the fucking team to make sure that gets done, then that's what I gotta do."

He gave me a serious look. "I promise, I _don't_ wanna die, and I won't go that route unless there ain't any other options. A few months ago, sure, I wouldn't have cared. I was so fucking _tired_ of everything—of this life, of hunting and fighting and all that shit—that the only thing keeping me going was that you still needed me. But I ain't felt like that since we finally got our heads outta our damn asses 'bout each other. I want both of us to grow old and fat and grey together. And I ain't giving that up without a goddamn fight, not even to fucking Lucifer!"

"What about the rest of what she said about you?"

He sighed. "I'm trying, and you've helped a _lot_ since we've been together. But four months of that ain't gonna easily outweigh more than twenty-five years of being taken for fucking granted and left behind, of taking all the work and responsibility but never getting a single 'Thank you' or 'Good job, son.'"

"God, Dean, I'm so—"

"Don't you try to fucking put this on yourself, 'cause that ain't what I meant!" He sat up straight and grabbed my shoulders. "You were just a kid, and kids are _supposed_ to take the people raising 'em for granted. And I knew that all the times you left, you weren't trying to get away from _me_. Yeah, shit coulda been better between us before, but _you_ ain't the one to blame for most of what's fucked up in my head."

"Does this mean you're _finally_ taking Dad off that pedestal?"

"I ain't _blind_ , Sam. I always knew that he screwed up a lot with both of us. But it ain't easy to criticize the man, ya know? I owe just 'bout everything to him! Dad coulda killed me or just left me behind when he found me, or he coulda treated me like crap 'cause I'm a monster when we were growing up. For as shitty a job he did as a father, he did _try_ , and I wouldn't be who I am now if he hadn't. And then he _died_ for me! What d'ya even fucking _say_ to that?"

I gently tugged my brother back against me. "You're right. I'm always so focused on all the things Dad did _wrong_ that I don't stop to think about what he did do _right_. I guess it's like what you and Missouri have been telling me, how just because something started from evil doesn't mean good can't come of it. Everything fucked up in our lives began the night that Mom was killed. But a lot of people have been saved because Dad forced us to become hunters as a result.

"In a lot of ways, I think it's easier for me to accept what Yellow-Eyes did to me. It's not something I had any control over, and I get that I can use those abilities to make a difference. And I've got you as a prime example of someone who's not human but still _good_. It's a lot harder to let go of all the things that _I_ did wrong though. It feels like a damn cop-out to push everything onto Azazel and Ruby and Lucifer and pretend that I'm not responsible for my actions."

"Nobody's trying to say that, kiddo. We all know you made mistakes," Dean said. "But that's what they were— _mistakes_. You didn't intend to start this fucking mess, and the fact that you thought you were doing what was right _does_ count for a lot. So does everything you've been doing since to fix this. And it's not like me or Cas or anyone else involved in this shitstorm didn't screw up plenty too. So you've gotta stop heaping all the blame on your shoulders. Besides, it's _my_ property you keep damaging whenever you beat yourself up."

I snorted at that. "Oh, so you own me now?"

"Damn straight! I've licked you more than enough times to claim you as mine!"

"I suppose it's better than you spraying me to mark your territory."

He gave me an indignant slap upside my head. " _Gross_ , dude! And for the last time, I ain't a damn cat!"

"Says the guy who'll start purring if I stroke him just right . . ."

That elicited a slow grin. "If you wanna prove your point properly, Sammy, we should move this upstairs."

Everyone was already eating when I came downstairs the next morning. The spread included biscuits, sausage gravy, sunny-side-up eggs, and sliced melon. Dean pushed a chair towards me with his foot as I approached the table.

"Why didn't you wake me earlier, dude?" I asked as I sat and started to fill my plate.

He licked a bit of gravy off his lips, which momentarily distracted me from my meal. "Knew you stayed up late, that your big damn brain wouldn't stop thinking. So I figured I'd let you sleep in while I fixed breakfast. You need to be well-rested for your spoon-bending lessons, right?"

"Your brother's right. Now eat up before we get started," Missouri said. "Dean honey, I do so _love_ a man who can cook! It's just a shame that you're too young for me!"

Bobby snorted and Adam and I snickered as Dean cowered in mock-fear. We then all dug into our food, silence prevailing until everyone's plates were empty. Adam and I cleared off the table and started on the dishes, while Dean and Missouri savored their coffee and Bobby retired to the study.

Once everything was cleaned, Missouri looked at Dean and me. "We should probably find someplace more open for the lessons, just in case Sam's abilities react unexpectedly. Wouldn't want any harm to come to this house."

Dean and I looked at each other, nodded, and quickly grabbed a few things. We then led her out back to the sparring area near the makeshift firing range. I spread a blanket on the ground under the nearest tree, while Dean set up a small cooler with bottles of water and cans of soda. We all settled onto the blanket, with Missouri leaning against the tree.

"Now, did you boys think 'bout what I told you last night?" she asked.

"Yeah, Dean and I talked after you left. And I did stay up for a while after he fell asleep, thinking over everything," I replied. "I can't say that I've fully accepted everything, but I'm trying. As I told Dean last night, the powers and not being completely human are the easier part to take in. Letting go of the shame and guilt for my own actions is _much_ harder. But Dean's been telling me nearly the same things you did for months, and I've been trying to listen."

"And you, Dean?"

"Like Sammy said, I'm trying too. He's been telling me things to make me feel better 'bout myself for years, but I've always been an 'actions speak louder than words' kinda guy. Him accepting what I am and us becoming lovers has helped more than anything. I know he believes in me and ain't gonna leave me. But twenty-plus years of secretly feeling like shit ain't something that goes away overnight."

"I understand, child. But as long as you keep trying and keep helping each other, you'll get there in the end." She smiled encouragingly at both of us. "Alright, Sam, why don't you tell me what you've been able to do so far with your powers?"

"You know about the visions. Almost all of them were related somehow to the Yellow-Eyed Demon, and I haven't had any since he was killed. I've moved things telekinetically a few times, but only when either Dean was in danger or I was juiced up on demon blood. I also used to be able to exorcise or even kill demons, but that again was only when I was hooked on demon juice. The telekinesis is the only ability I've been able to use without Azazel or the blood so far—I threw a demon around a few days ago after he tried to attack Dean."

"Well, lemme take a closer look at you and see what I can determine." Missouri leaned forward and peered at me, and then her eyes went unfocused.

"Oh my! Your powers seem just as powerful as they were when I first met you, maybe even more so now. And honey? You know that I can read energy and tell if it's dark or not, like that poltergeist at your old house. Looking at you though, all I see is brightness. There's nothing sinister or evil in you, Sam. It don't matter if these gifts had a demonic origin, 'cause they've been purified by the goodness that's at your core."

Dean reached over and squeezed my hand. "It's what I've been telling you, darling. Ain't nothing bad in you, and now you got someone else backing that up."

I nodded, momentarily unable to speak as I blinked back tears. I gripped his hand back and raised my other to quickly wipe my eyes. "Th—thanks, Missouri. You—you don't know what it means to hear that," I managed to get out in a thick voice.

"Think nothing of it." She sat up briskly. "While I'd like nothing better than to give you the space to take this in and heal some of the hurt inside you, unfortunately the end of the world won't wait for us. The sooner I can help you realize your potential, the sooner you can do what needs to be done."

"I understand. The longer we wait, the more people get hurt as long as Lucifer runs free." I took a deep breath. "What do I need to do?"

"Alright then. Have you ever done meditation?"

"I tried it once. This girl I met at that art history course took me to some yoga classes."

"I don't normally hold with that New Agey stuff, crystals and chakras and such. But meditation does seem to do the job, particularly when you're first learning. So close your eyes and take deep slow breaths. Clear your mind and focus on your breathing."

I followed her instructions, gradually emptying my thoughts and concentrating on the slow in and out of my breaths. Soon my mind was floating calmly in the void.

"Now look inward until you see a bright, pulsating energy," she continued. "Do you see it, Sam?"

I turned my attention away from the void and focused it back on myself. At first, I didn't see anything. Then slowly, the emptiness parted and revealed a dazzling golden light, faintly tinged in red, that throbbed in time with my heartbeat. I nodded.

"Now reach in and take hold of that energy. Grasp it gently—don't snatch at it. Once you've got it, open your eyes and focus on me."

I extended my consciousness towards the light and wrapped it around the energy. It felt like when I'd grabbed it in Brady's office, but this time I touched it carefully. Once it seemed like I had a firm grip, I opened my eyes and looked at Missouri intently. I could make out the details of her face and form more clearly than before, and I could see the warm yellow energy woven throughout her being, similar to mine but not as strong.

I turned my gaze toward my brother and gasped. He looked more beautiful than ever, the fine points of his delicate features, burnished hair, emerald eyes, and pale skin standing out in sharper contrast. The light twined through his figure was different than mine or Missouri's, a cool silvery web spread over his entire body and glowing brightest over his head and heart.

Dean gave me a puzzled glance. "What? Is there some crap on my face?"

I shook my head. "You look amazing, Dee!"

"What do you see?" Missouri asked.

"Everything looks clearer, sharper. I can see the energy in both of you—yours looks like golden swirls, and his is more like a silver lattice."

"Good! What I want you to try next is to carefully reach out until you can touch the swirls around my head."

I frowned in concentration and cautiously tried to stretch out towards the psychic. Nothing happened, and after a couple minutes of straining, I raised my hand as if I were about to physically touch her head. With the assistance of that visualization, I felt my power touch the energy whirling about her head. It initially was like pushing on a smooth, solid wall, and then the bright swirls relaxed against my contact.

 _Very good, Sam!_ I heard her voice clearly say in my head. _That wall you first felt was a shield to prevent my thoughts from being read. I'll show you how to do the same soon enough. And in time you won't need to use the gestures either, but it's fine for now._

 _This is . . . wow! Will I be able to do this with other people?_ I asked her silently.

 _With ungifted people, you can read their thoughts, and on occasion you can make 'em hear you briefly, but it ain't easy. You can only talk back and forth like this with other telepaths. You should be able to do this eventually with your brother, once he learns how to use his ability. But now let's try something else._

She turned to Dean and said, "Honey, can you find us some small rocks or something? Nothing too heavy, mind!"

He jumped up, went to the rusted oil drum by the shooting range, and returned with a handful of empty beer cans. "Will these work?"

"Those are perfect. Just set 'em on the ground." She waited until he sat back down before turning to me. "This should be easier since you've done this before. Try to reach out and pick up one of those cans."

I stretched my hand out and focused on the cans. The first one flew back and crashed into the wooden fence on the shooting range. The second one crumpled completely before I could lift it. I inhaled deeply and attempted to dial back the power I was using before reaching for the third can. The sides indented partway before it floated up to eye-level.

Dean eyed the wooden fence. "I guess this is what happens when you've only used this thing for throwing douchebags around!"

"Well, you obvious need to work on your control, child. But this is still great for a first try!" Missouri beamed at me approvingly. "Why don't you grab some more cans and keep practicing, while I work with your brother? I've never taught someone who ain't human before, so I dunno if the same techniques will apply."

I retrieved more empty cans from the oil drum and set them up a little further away. When I returned to the blanket, Dean was sitting cross-legged next to Missouri, breathing deeply with his eyes closed, while she murmured to him. I turned back to the cans and carefully grasped the energy inside me. It took several tries before I could pick one up without fumbling or damaging it. After practicing lifting a single can up successfully, I moved on to trying to raise two at the same time.

I had just managed to get two cans to float up steadily when Missouri suddenly clapped her hands together. I gave her a startled look as the cans clattered to the ground. Next to her, Dean wore a frustrated expression, and his hands were fisted on his knees.

"Why don't you boys take a short break? Grab a coupla drinks and walk around for a bit. I know I need a few minutes to shake these old bones loose after sitting on the ground," the psychic said as she got up stiffly.

"Is everything going okay?" I asked, looking concernedly at my brother.

"Like magic, these abilities rely on willpower and concentration to be used right," she replied. "Dean here certainly has the will, but he's still fighting against a couple preconceptions. One, that this is even an ability that his kind can use, and secondly and more importantly, that he himself is truly capable of mastering something like this. I think the boy needs a chance to clear his head 'fore we try again."

"Let me see what I can do." I stood and held a hand out to the other man. "Why don't you come with me, Dee?"

He pulled two sodas from the cooler and took my hand. I led him through the salvage yard until we found a derelict Town Car. I waited until he sat on the hood before taking one of the sodas.

Dean took a swig from his can and then looked down dejectedly. "I don't think I can _do_ this, man. It's one thing for _you_ to figure this shit out—you've always been the smart one. But I just ain't fucking getting it!"

"Okay, first let's get you to relax." I set my drink on the ground and moved closer.

"I dunno if I—"

I stepped between his knees and shut him up by kissing him soundly. He got with the program quickly and kissed back enthusiastically. I gently sucked on his lower lip for a moment, then dropped to my knees.

My brother grinned as I unfastened his belt and started on his jeans. "Awesome idea, Sammy!"

I smiled up at him and pulled his cock out. It was still soft but began to stiffen soon enough after I took it into my mouth. I sucked on it as it lengthened until the head almost hit the back of my throat, then pulled off with a small cough. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and started to stroke while licking at his slit. Dean groaned in pleasure as I enveloped his glans in my mouth again and swirled my tongue around it.

"Fuck, don't stop doing that! I'm gonna—gonna cum . . ."

I slid my lips down further, taking more of his member into my mouth. His breathing quickened as my tongue lapped at the underside of his shaft, and I swiftly unzipped my jeans and brought my own cock out. After he gasped and spilled into my mouth, it took only a few hurried jerks before I spurted onto my hand.

Dean lifted that hand to his mouth and licked it clean, purring happily. I then stood, tucked myself back in my jeans, and joined him on the hood of the car. As he lay back, I placed a hand over his groin and caressed it gently, more in affection than a serious attempt to arouse him again.

"Feeling better, big brother?" I asked warmly.

Languid green eyes blinked up at me. "You know I am, dude."

I leaned down to kiss him softly. "I want you to listen to me carefully now. You are _not_ stupid! I did better than you in school mostly because I enjoyed it more, and because you were busy raising me and helping Dad. But lack of time or interest doesn't translate to a lack of ability. You're practically a savant with anything mechanical. You scored really well on your GED, especially the math and science sections. You might prefer to leave more of the researching to me, but you know and understand the lore just as well as I do. And who's the one behind most of our plans? None of these are the hallmarks of just a dumb grunt!

"So I want you to believe in yourself, because _I_ believe in _you_. Mastering your telepathy might not be easy, but I know you can do it! I've never seen you not own something once you put your mind to it, and this isn't any different. So let's go back to Missouri and kick this in the ass, alright?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll give this thing another try." He sat up and hugged me. "Thanks, Sammy."

We straightened our clothes and returned to the practice area. Missouri gave us a knowing look as we sat back down on the blanket, and I flushed, vowing silently to learn to shield my thoughts as soon as I could.

"I wanna try something different this time," she announced. "Dean, you told me earlier that it's been easier for you to guess what your brother's thinking or feeling ever since you two got together. I think the bond you share has allowed your telepathy to read Sam without you even realizing it. And I think it's gonna help us now to get you to access this ability consciously.

"So I want you two to sit in front of each other and hold hands. Sam, you should try to remain open and think 'bout your brother. Then Dean, you need to close your eyes and try to _see_ Sam, to see his light and his love for you with your inner eye. Once you do that, try to reach out to him."

We shifted until we were sitting across from one another and clasped hands. I took hold of my power and focused my thoughts on Dean, concentrating on my love and pride and belief in him. I wasn't sure how long I waited, but eventually I felt something brush against my consciousness.

 _Sammy? Can you hear me now? You look fucking amazing, baby brother!_ Dean's voice was almost awe-struck.

 _Yeah, I can hear you, Dee. I told you that you could do this! Now that you can see me this way, can you do the same for yourself?_

 _Uh, lemme try._ There was a pause, and then surprise. _Shit, that's weird! Huh, I wonder if all shifters look like this?_

 _I'm sure there'd be some similarities, but I doubt most of them would look as pure and clear,_ I stated, and immediately felt his embarrassed pleasure. _Now try to reach out and contact Missouri._

 _Okay, I'll give it a shot._ I could feel my brother exerting himself and tried to send encouragement his way. _Sonofabitch, this is a lot harder than talking to you! Um, alright, I think I got it . . ._

 _Hello, Dean! And I can see Sam is here too, so you two must still be linked. How do you feel this time?_

 _Talking to Sammy like this ain't too hard, once I figured out this whole 'seeing' thing without using your eyes. It's harder trying to do the same with you. But I didn't wanna let him down, so I kept at it,_ he admitted.

 _That's real good, honey!_ she said. _We're gonna keep practicing this until you both can contact each other and me without effort. Then I'll show you how to protect your thoughts and how to touch others' without 'em noticing. And Sam, we'll keep working on your telekinesis too, on refining your control and increasing your strength. And try to see what else you can do._

"One thing that's very important though, boys," she continued aloud, looking at us sternly. "I don't wanna see either of you try _anything_ without me around to supervise, you hear? Until you get more skilled, it's too easy for something to go wrong 'cause you don't know what you're doing."

"We understand, ma'am," I replied.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

As promised, we spent the next couple of days focused on learning to use our abilities. It didn't take long for either of us to get comfortable communicating telepathically with one another and with Missouri, particularly as Dean gained more confidence. She then moved on to teaching us how to shield our minds. This took a little more time and effort to master, though my brother was tickled that he got the hang of it a bit faster than I did. One oddity was that the shielding wasn't entirely effective between the two of us—no matter how hard we tried to block, Dean and I could still sense most of each other's thoughts and emotions. We both bitched outwardly at the potential lack of privacy but in reality were rather pleased at the additional closeness.

I also spent time practicing my telekinesis. I continued working on being able to pick up smaller and more delicate objects without damaging them and to move them exactly how I wanted. In addition, I started learning to push or lift larger objects, starting with rocks and smaller pieces of junk around the salvage yard.

Late in the morning of the third day, Dean was in the yard, rebuilding the engine of the wrecked GTO. I was sitting nearby with a carton of eggs, trying to lift the eggs one by one with my mind without cracking them. My idiot brother was "helping" by bombarding me with increasingly lewd thoughts as a distraction. Missouri was seated not far away under a beach umbrella we'd set up for her, watching us and trying not to laugh or blush.

I'd just managed to successfully float three eggs and start juggling them in the air, despite the very graphic memory Dean had thrown at me of one of the more unforgettable blowjobs he'd given me, when I heard clapping behind me. I carefully returned the eggs to the carton and turned to look.

"Bravo, Moose! Is this the plan now—divert the Devil with parlor tricks?" Crowley asked snidely.

I briefly contemplated dropping the GTO's engine block on the demon before closing the egg carton and standing. "Go to Hell, Crowley. Don't pass Go, don't collect two hundred souls."

"Hah hah, everyone's a bloody comedian. Do you want to hear my news or not?"

Dean stepped up next to me, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. "You got a Death sighting?"

"Ding, ding, another prize for the Squirrel! Yes, Death is at his favorite pizzeria as we speak," Crowley replied.

"Alright, give us a few minutes to tell Bobby and grab our weapons," I said. "I assume you can teleport us there?"

"Yes, round-trip first-class accommodations. Hurry it up! If we miss this sodding window, who knows how long before the Horseman shows again? And don't worry about weapons—you're covered." The demon pulled out a small, ancient-looking scythe. "Death's own. Kills demons and angels and reapers and, rumor has it, the very thing itself."

"How did you get that?" I asked. The last time we'd seen that scythe was in Alistair's hands.

"Hello, King of the Crossroads? Now move!" He glared impatiently.

We hurried to the house with Missouri following. As we stepped inside, she demanded, "Were you both dropped on your fool heads as babies? You're working with a _demon_!"

"Yeah, well, we ain't thrilled 'bout it either. But you know, enemy of our enemy, yadda yadda," Dean replied before bounding up the stairs.

"Listen, there's no time for debate right now. But we're aware of the dangers and are being as careful as we can. It's not like we can afford to reject any help in a fight like this." I turned away and stuck my head through the doorway to the study. "Hey, Bobby! We've got to head out—Crowley's spotted Death in Chicago."

Bobby looked up from the journal he was reading. "You boys be careful! This is the big one—taking out Death is gonna make the others look like a walk in the park."

"We will. We'll call you if we're not going to be back in a few hours," I said.

Dean came running down the stairs in a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt, his face and hands freshly scrubbed. As he went past, he handed me my Taurus and the demon-killing knife, saying, "I don't care what Crowley said. We ain't just relying on him and going in unarmed. You ready, Sam?"

I nodded, and we left the house. As we approached Crowley, I tried looking at him with my inner eye, as Missouri called it, and had to refrain from gagging. His features were distorted and horrific, and his power was a roiling black cloud shot through with jagged lines of angry red.

 _I know, man. He smells pretty shitty too,_ Dean said in response to my disgust. _Wonder if this is like what Cas sees whenever he looks at one of these asswipes?_

I shook my head to clear it as we reached the demon. He placed his hands on our shoulders wordlessly, and we disappeared. Traveling with Crowley was far different than with Castiel. The motion was rougher, and we were surrounded by an almost overbearing heat and stench of brimstone. What should've been only a moment seemed to stretch out endlessly. When we finally arrived on the sidewalk of a city block, we were both bent over from vertigo.

 _I don't care if we hafta fucking_ walk _back to Sioux Falls from Chicago. We_ ain't _doing that again!_ my brother wheezed in my head.

"Are you two infants _quite_ done yet?" Crowley asked impatiently. "Honestly, it makes one wonder why so many creatures are afraid of you."

I started to reassess my earlier decision to not crush the demon with a piece of heavy machinery and heard Dean mentally snicker. I said sourly, "Stuff it, Crowley! How close are we?"

"Rinascita is just across the street. Death's still inside." Crowley pointed to an unassuming-looking storefront after handing my brother the scythe.

"Alright. You coming or . . . not," Dean said as the demon disappeared. "Cowardly sonofabitch!"

I put my hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't matter. We don't need him for this. Circle around back, right?"

He indicated his assent, and we quietly went around to the back entrance of the restaurant. We cut through the deserted kitchen and stealthily approached the only occupied table in the dining area. I raised my mental shields as strongly as possible and saw that the other hunter had done the same. As we got within a few feet of the lone patron, whose back was to us, the scythe suddenly became red-hot. Dean swore as his fingers spasmed opened, but the scythe disappeared before it hit the floor and reappeared on the table.

"Thanks for returning that. Please join me, Dean, Sam. The pizza's delicious." Death indicated the seats in front of him. "It took you long enough to find me. I've been wanting to talk to you."

As we sat down, Dean replied, "I gotta say . . . I kinda have mixed feelings 'bout that. Is this the part where—where you kill us? 'Cause this was all _my_ idea, so please just let my brother go—"

 _Dean, what the hell are you doing? Are you_ trying _to get yourself killed?_ I shouted.

 _Dude, it's fucking_ Death _, and he's made us! No need for both of us to go down for this!_ he retorted.

"No need for such theatrics. You have an inflated sense of your own importance. To a being like me, creatures like you, well . . . imagine how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm _old_ , Dean—very old. So I invite you to contemplate how _insignificant_ I find all of you. Eat." Death gestured at the pizza.

We looked at each other, then Dean shrugged and took a slice. He carefully cut off a piece and bit into it. I felt his surprised pleasure and tried a piece myself. It was _very_ good, possibly the best bite of pizza I'd ever had—a thick, crispy, buttery crust, an abundant amount of oozy cheese, piquant pepperoni, fresh peppers, and sweet onions, all topped with a coating of chunky, richly seasoned sauce.

The Horseman beamed at our expressions. "Good, isn't it?"

I swallowed and wiped the sauce off my lips. "So then why are we still breathing and sitting here with you? What is it you want?"

"I want the leash around my neck _off_. Lucifer has me bound to him with some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants and when he wants. That's why I couldn't come to you and instead had to wait for you to catch up. He's made me _his_ weapon—hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you or anyone else can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty _child_ with a temper tantrum." Death looked offended.

"And you think . . . _we_ can unbind you?" Dean asked.

"There's that ridiculous bravado again. Of course you can't. But you _can_ help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun. I understand you want this." Death held up his ring. "I'm inclined to give it to you."

"To _give_ it to us?" I looked incredulous—nothing was that easy.

"That's what I said. There _are_ conditions."

"Is this where you make us an offer we can't refuse?" my brother put in.

"Something to that effect. You both have to do _whatever_ it takes to put Lucifer back in his cell. Even if that means sacrificing your brother to accomplish the task. Do you understand?"

Dean and I exchanged another glance, and then my brother responded. "Sam and I have talked 'bout this. If there's any other choice, we're gonna take that. But _if_ it comes down to it, we're ready to bite the fucking bullet to shove the Devil back in the Cage."

"Hmm. I take it the plan currently is to pit your largely untested powers against the most powerful being you've encountered before today. Tell me, do you truly comprehend the _magnitude_ of the undertaking before you?"

Before either of us could say anything, an enormous force abruptly pressed against my shielding. Missouri had done some testing of our psychic defenses, but her probes paled in contrast to this overwhelming attack—like comparing gravel striking a windshield to a wrecking ball hitting the same surface. I slumped back in my chair as I threw all my power into shoring up my mental armor. Despite all my efforts, my protections started to crack, and I began to panic.

I immediately felt my brother's hands on my shoulders, holding me up. More importantly, his shields slid behind my own to reinforce them, and I felt his energy join with mine. This gave me the power to not only repair my defenses but also push back a little against the crushing pressure.

The assault unexpectedly ceased, and Death sat back with an amused twinkle in his eye. "Oh, they won't expect _this_! As the redoubtable Miss Moseley told you, God's plans tend to revolve around the conflict between brothers, perhaps because he can't get over his own sibling issues. Poor Michael and Lucifer are only the first in a _long_ line of failed experiments.

"Now, God himself may have _finally_ learned from his mistakes, since he made you soulmates and gave you the resolve to choose your own way. But his deluded angelic offspring aren't capable of resisting their programming. Even the Light-bearer, who thinks he's _such_ a rebel, won't know what hit him when he finally faces the two of you working together!" The Horseman chuckled in delight.

Dean and I finished untangling our powers from each other, although he left an arm around my shoulders. I caught my breath and took a drink from the bottle of beer that appeared next to my plate. I then cautiously met Death's eyes.

"So you think we have a chance?" I asked him.

"I do, Sam. This is no guarantee that you'll succeed. But I _do_ think Lucifer may have outsmarted himself with you. He thought he was stacking the deck in his favor by changing you and setting you and your family on this path. In his pride, however, he neglected to factor in the strength of the humanity he so despises, particularly your determination and capacity for love. And then there's the wild card of your brother's true nature."

"Listen, we _really_ appreciate the loan of your ring and the vote of confidence," Dean said. "Is there anything else you can do? To, uh, level the playing field a bit more?"

"I'm limited in how much I can assist due to the bindings. But there is _this_." Death leaned across the table and touched both of us on the foreheads. "A few days or even weeks of training typically wouldn't be enough to become proficient with your abilities to the degree you'll need against an opponent like Lucifer. While I can't simply _give_ you the expertise you require, I _can_ unlock the knowledge in your minds. This should enable you to grasp the necessary skills at a faster rate, as further practice will let you access and implement this information. This applies to powers you haven't tried yet as well.

"For example, you received a small burn before dropping my scythe, Dean. I'm aware that you normally heal faster than a human, but this would still take a day or two to fix without shifting, correct? Try to see if you can heal it faster now."

Dean opened up his right hand, revealing an angry burn mark on the palm. His brow furrowed in concentration, and then both of our eyes widened as the burn healed and disappeared.

"There, you see? That will come easier with repetition," Death continued. "I'm not giving you anything you didn't already possess, merely easing the way."

"We can't thank you enough for all this," I said. "We promise we'll do our best to defeat Lucifer."

"One last thing—when that dilettante Gabriel told you about the rings, did he inform you about _how_ to use them?" The Horsemen sighed when we shook our heads. "Honestly, such irresponsible children! Here's the instruction manual then. You'll first need to bring all four rings together to form the key. There's no particular trick needed here—the rings will link once they're all within close enough proximity to one another. Make sure not to do this before you're ready to open the Cage; otherwise Lucifer may detect the key in advance.

"The next step will be to cast the key down against the floor or wall or other flat surface, and then you recite the first part of the incantation I'm about to provide you." Death wrote two lines on the back of a napkin and passed it over. "The door to the Cage will open, and then you must find a way to push him in. The door will close after you deliver the second portion of the invocation."

My brother looked up from his unscarred hand. "Hey, is he really dead? Gabriel, I mean? Figure if anyone'd know the truth, it'd be you."

Death smiled enigmatically. "I do know, but the time isn't right to let _that_ particular cat out of the bag. I'll send you back to your friend Bobby's house once you've finished your pizza. If your endeavor is successful, I'll come by afterward to retrieve my ring. Agreed?"

We walked into the house with somewhat dazed expressions on both our faces. Bobby looked us over in concern from behind his desk as we entered the study and sat on the bed.

"You're back and in one piece, which is a good sign, even if you both look like you got smacked too hard with the stupid stick," he remarked. "How did it go? Were you able to off Death and get his ring?"

"Yes and no. Death is still alive, but he gave us his ring. And more," I said.

"He just handed it over? And whaddya mean, more?" Bobby looked as skeptical as I had earlier.

"Dude apparently ain't happy 'bout being forced to be Lucifer's fucking flunky, so he's helping us as much as he can," Dean replied. "He gave us his ring and told us how to use all of 'em to unlock the Cage—something Gabriel forgot to mention during his damn porno confession."

I added, "Death also did something to make it easier to learn to use our abilities before the big showdown. He said he 'unlocked the knowledge' in our heads. I guess we'll see what the effects are when we get back to practicing."

"Well, I guess it's good to have a big kahuna like that in our corner. I've got some news for you too," Bobby said. "I think I got a location figured out for where we want this to go down."

"That's awesome, Bobby! Where's this place?" my brother asked.

"It's called Stull Cemetery in Stull, Kansas, a little place a few miles west of Lawrence. There're only a handful of houses in the area, so very little chance for collateral damage. The cemetery is considered one of the most haunted places in America. Supposedly there's a Hell Gate in the middle of it, and the Devil himself appears there twice a year—on All Hallow's Eve and on the summer solstice.

"Now all that is just urban legend crap—enough hunters have checked out the place over the years to determine there ain't anything supernatural going on. But I figure the story will appeal to Satan's sense of humor. And there's a certain amount of irony to it being so close to where it all started for you."

"This does sound promising," I said.

"There's more. I gave a call to that prophet fellow, Chuck," the older hunter continued. "Didn't wanna say too much, but I asked him if he knew anything 'bout Stull. What he told me is that according to his visions, that cemetery is where Michael and Lucifer are supposed to duke it out, at least if you're going by Heaven's script. He didn't seem aware that we've thrown that playbook out, so I suspect that those dumbasses upstairs and downstairs are still in the dark too. But it gives us another tie-in to the place, which'll hopefully make it easier to convince Old Scratch to show up."

"Alright, we should check it out as soon as we can, to see what the hell we're working with," Dean stated. "We wanna make sure no one is gonna be too close by, and we hafta see how we can ward the place to keep all the other feathered and black-eyed bastards out."

I asked, "Does anyone know when the summer solstice is? If we're going to use this urban legend to attract Lucifer's attention, then the meeting should be on the night of the solstice."

"I looked it up, and it's on June twenty-first this year," Bobby answered.

"Okay, that's eight days from today. Which isn't a lot of time, so we're going to have to hope that whatever Death did to us will be enough to even the odds."

"Well, I'll do my part to help you boys get ready," Missouri said from one of the armchairs, where she'd been sitting quietly until now. "Now, what else happened when you talked with the Horseman? I can tell there's more."

I hesitated a bit before responding. "At one point, Death tried to break my mental shields. It wasn't meant to be a true attack—he was trying to show us what we'd be up against facing someone as powerful as Lucifer. I threw everything I had into resisting him, but he started to break through anyways. Then Dean somehow joined me—he used his shields to brace mine and added his energy to my own.

"I don't know if that would've been enough to fight off the attack, but it certainly surprised Death. He told us basically the same thing you did, Missouri—that our opponents are so hung up on fraternal conflict that they won't be expecting us working together. He also mentioned that they don't know the truth about Dean."

She looked thoughtful. "That's certainly something we're gonna hafta work on then. You're gonna need every advantage you can find to defeat the Adversary. You two should rest up for a bit, and then it's back to practice time this afternoon."

"Do we have any ideas for _how_ we're going to . . . um, invite Lucifer to this showdown?" I asked.

"Crowley," Dean stated. "He can do the same thing he did to 'out' Brady—kick down the door on some demons and give the message to the cocksuckers that don't end up as Juliette's chew-toys."

"There's something else that had occurred to me a little while back, though it ain't directly related to this conflict," Bobby said. "I know you've been working on accepting this demon blood-permanent change thing, Sam, and what I thought of might make all this a little easier to swallow."

I looked at him curiously. "What's that, man?"

"I don't know if you've stopped to consider the potential long-term consequences of your relationship with your brother before. Assuming we all survive this Apocalypse shit, and you don't get taken out unexpectedly by some ghost or vamp or whatever, you're looking at maybe fifty to sixty years tops before you die of old age as a normal human being, right?

"Meanwhile, Dean here is practically immortal as far as we can tell, as long as he don't get his fool ass killed. Shifters are immune to human diseases, and they don't age. Dean's been allowing this form to age to keep pace with you, but I suspect it's only skin-deep—if he wanted, he could look whatever age he felt like. So he's liable to outlive all of us by a good long bit.

"Now what you are is a new thing, so it's hard to predict what effect the demon blood will have on you in the long run. Closest we can come is looking at the lore on cambions. There ain't much, but we do know they have the power to alter reality. So I imagine they could choose not to age as well. We don't know how your abilities compare to something like that, but if you've got even a fraction of that level of power . . ."

"I—I hadn't thought about any of this." I looked over at my brother. "What do you think?"

"I've tried not to think too much about what the fuck would happen if you got old and died but I didn't. The way I figured, I'm measuring the length of my lifespan by _this_." Dean put his hand over my heart. "There ain't anything for me if you ain't around anymore. It don't matter if it's a monster or natural causes or a goddamn meteor—if you go, I'll be following soon after. If your powers can keep you around longer—without drinking demon blood or eating babies or shit like that, of course—then I'm all about that."

The two of us retired to our room after that. We remained silent as we stripped down to our underwear and got into bed. I watched as my brother stretched sinuously, his t-shirt riding up to reveal an expanse of taut abdomen, before settling back against the pillow.

"We're almost there," I said softly. "We've got all four rings and the instructions on how to create the key. We've found the location for where to spring the trap and an idea for how to lure Lucifer there. We're getting a handle on the abilities we're going to use against him and just need time to practice with them. This should all be over in a few days."

He turned to face me, his green eyes serious. "I know, dude. Kinda hard to believe, ain't it? After all the shit we've been through, we're finally almost at the end. And whether it turns out good or bad, we're taking care of this _our_ way."

"Have you thought about . . . after?"

"Oh yeah, I got plans! I ain't saying more, 'cause I don't wanna jinx 'em. But I can tell you one thing—they _don't_ involve diving back right back into hunting. After everything we've done, I think we deserve a little fucking break!"

"No arguments here!"

I leaned over and kissed his plush lips gently. Dean reached up and dug his hand into my hair, holding me in place as he kissed back passionately. We moaned into each other's mouths as he licked along my lips and then slid his tongue inside.

I pushed his shirt up with one hand and tweaked his nipples, pinching and flicking at each one. He arched his back and shoved my head down to his chest, where I nibbled and suckled at each of the pink buds. He pushed me back long enough to take off his shirt, then tugged at mine until I did the same. I returned to worrying at his nipples until I could tell from his groans that they'd gotten sore. He meanwhile ran his hand firmly up my ribs and began kneading and caressing my pectoral muscles.

I gave each nipple one last kiss and then nipped and licked my way down his freckled torso until I reached his groin, where I pushed his boxer-briefs down past his knees. I lapped up the length of his erect shaft and swallowed down the head, while my hand fondled his smooth, heavy balls. I could hear my lover gasp and curse quietly above me as his cock twitched and leaked pre-cum.

I pulled my mouth away and looked up into his lust-blown eyes. "I wanna finger you and eat you out, Dee. Can I?"

"Fuck, yeah! Whatever you want, Sammy!" he replied as he kicked his underwear away.

I rubbed my fingers back and forth along his perineum for a moment before circling the tight furl of his entrance. I slowly pushed one finger past the snug ring of muscle and into his hot, wet channel. I slid it in and out a couple of times before slipping in a second digit. As I scissored them open and shut to stretch his opening, I mouthed down his member and his scrotum.

My brother spread his legs and pulled his knees up, giving me a clear view of my fingers inside his moist hole. I ran the tip of my tongue around his entrance before pushing it inside between my fingers. He was always meticulous about keeping himself clean, so all I tasted was the musky, salty flavor of his inner walls and lubricating secretions. I thrust my tongue in repeatedly and simultaneously curled my fingertips against his prostate.

He mewled in pleasure with each thrust and dropped his hands to my head, where he alternated between gently tugging and running his fingers through my hair. I moaned in turn, as hair-pulling was a bit of a kink of mine, and continued to move my tongue inside his passage. Soon my lips and chin and his ass and thighs were slippery with my saliva and his slick fluid. I then pushed two fingers from my other hand in and plunged all four in and out on either side of my tongue, making sure they brushed his sweet spot on each pass.

Dean bit his lips to muffle a shout and pulled my head back, and his channel clenched tightly around my fingers as he climaxed, his seed shooting onto his stomach. I sat up and pushed my boxers down, but he batted my hands away when I tried to reach for myself. Instead he bent over my lap and swallowed my cock down to the base, his lips brushing the curls of my pubic hair. He started to hum and suck in time to _The Ocean_ , but I found myself cumming down his throat before he finished the second verse.

He swallowed and cleaned off his abdomen with his discarded briefs, while I pulled up my boxers and flopped back down on the bed. He grinned at me and used a clean corner of the briefs to wipe the spit from my chin. He then lay back with his head on my shoulder, and his purr resonated against my chest.

After a few minutes, I asked quietly, _Did you mean what you said earlier? That if I died first, you'd kill yourself to follow me? Because you know I wouldn't want that, Dee._

My brother looked up through long lashes. _Yeah, I really did. When you were killed at Cold Oaks, I couldn't fucking handle it. My whole life revolved around you—raising you, taking care of you, trying to keep you safe. You were my brother, my kid, my best friend, and you were suddenly_ gone _. So I made that dumbass deal to bring you back and ended up starting this whole mess._

 _And that was_ before _we became everything else to each other. I've learned my lesson about shitty demon deals, but if something happened to you now, and I can't find some way to save you . . . I won't survive that, I know it. You're what makes my damn life worth living, Sammy. Can you really say any different?_

I sighed. _I—I don't know . . ._ _I know I was a_ serious _mess after you were dragged down to Hell. It was bad enough when I was by myself at Stanford, before I met Jess, but at least you were still out there, and I knew you'd come if I needed you. You've always been the foundation my life is built on, the one good, stable thing that's always there for me. Those four months that you were gone, and before that when you died at the Mystery Spot, I was totally lost, and you know I made some_ incredibly _shitty decisions._

 _And like you said, that was before we'd become lovers and soulmates. So I can't even imagine how much worse I'd be if I lost you now . . . I know what we promised Death, but if it comes down to a choice between letting you die or letting Lucifer get away . . . I'm afraid I'll make the selfish choice. I think I'd be willing to let the rest of the world go to Hell if it would keep you safe, Dean._ I wrapped my arms around him tightly.

Dean hugged me back. "Let's hope it don't come to that. We're gonna to do our best to take the Devil out without _anyone_ dying. We deserve a happy fucking ending for once, so we just gotta do what it takes to make that happen."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

We had Cas take us to Stull the following morning via angel-express so we wouldn't lose most of the day in the car. I was glad for the chance to get out. The next week would be mostly focused on training our psychic talents, so opportunities to leave the salvage yard would likely be few.

We'd spent the previous afternoon and evening practicing using our powers together, like we had against Death. It became readily apparent that whatever he'd done to us _did_ make a difference. We no longer had to figure out _how_ to do something—the knowledge was already there and just needed to be rehearsed. And to all of our surprise, we discovered that I could not only access Dean's energy but also some of his abilities as well. Not the shapeshifting—that seemed to be more genetic than psychic—but I could definitely use his accelerated healing on myself. Unfortunately, he had much more difficulty doing the same, perhaps because his own psychic powers were more limited.

The cemetery was small and unassuming. The grounds were well-tended, with few large monuments or crypts. Rubble and crumbled foundations were the only remnants of an old chapel in the center. As we walked around, we didn't see anyone else in the graveyard or the surrounding area.

"Well, this seems pretty damn deserted, so hopefully there ain't gonna be a problem with locals getting caught in the crossfire," Dean observed. "We still hafta keep the supernatural element out though. Think we could ring the whole place with salt and holy oil?"

"That will not be possible, Dean," Castiel replied. "The amount of holy oil required to encircle an area this size would be enormous. I would not be able to acquire a sufficient quantity, not in the timeframe we have left."

"The amount of salt we'd need would be prohibitive too," I added. "Even in someplace like this, we'd be noticed pulling up with a truckload of road salt in the middle of June. We should pick a smaller area and concentrate on warding that."

Bobby wheeled over to the ruined chapel. "How about the area around this church? According to the urban legends, the stairway leading to the Hell Gate is somewhere in here, so the location should tickle Satan's fancy. And the rubble should give enough places for everyone to hide until needed, as well as places to draw the necessary protective symbols."

"One thing we'll have to be careful of is human security. From what I've read, the locals don't like the negative publicity the stories bring, so the police guard the cemetery on the nights of Halloween and the solstice," I said.

"I can take care of that," Cas said. "I should be able to put any guards to sleep and move them a safe distance away. They won't remember anything when they awake."

"Alright, sounds like a plan. Next step is to summon Crowley and get him on board with playing messenger." Dean turned to the angel. "Can you take us back now, dude?"

Once we returned to Bobby's house, we prepared the summoning ritual in the study again, this time sans devil's trap. Dean supplied the blood needed like before, though now he healed the cut immediately while the candles flared up.

Crowley looked around the room. "Winchesters. You obviously survived your encounter with Death. So to what do I owe the pleasure now?"

Dean scowled. "Yeah, we got his ring, no thanks to you! You're lucky we didn't summon you just to shove a fucking angel blade up your ass sideways! But fortunately for you, we need you to do one last thing so we can spring the trap on the Devil."

"We have all four rings now and know how to use them. We've also determined where we want the meeting to take place. But we need your help to get him there," I explained.

"And you want me to do what exactly?" Crowley asked with a raised brow. "I'd like to survive this bloody debacle intact, so I can't exactly stroll up to Old Scratch and ask him nicely."

"We're not asking you to risk yourself like that. We figured you could find some lesser demons like you did with Brady and give one of them the message to pass on to Lucifer," I said. "Maybe you could spin it like you've realized you made a mistake and are trying to get back in his good graces."

"What's the message then?"

"You tell 'em that Sam Winchester wants to talk to Lucifer about answering a certain question," Dean told the demon. "Tell 'em that he wants to meet at midnight on the twenty-first at the old church in Stull Cemetery. You sell it to 'em however you damn well please, as long as he fucking shows. We'll take care of the rest."

"Make sure you include that he has to come alone—no demons or Horsemen or whatever for backup," Bobby added.

"Going to use the old legend about the gateway to Hell there, are we?" Crowley chuckled. "That might be enough to pique Satan's interest. Fine, I'll take care of this. You lot hold up your end though, or we're all buggered!

"Oh, and next time, just call. This is the twenty-first century, after all." He disappeared, leaving a black business card behind on the desk.

Bobby picked up the card. "Well, that's that. Assuming this works, all that's left is making sure you both have enough mojo to pull this off!"

As anticipated, the next few days were spent working on honing our powers. Missouri returned to Lawrence after a couple of days, saying that she had nothing left to teach us and wishing us good fortune. Cas showed up a day later, pointing out that we need someone to test ourselves against. He might not be anywhere close to the level of an archangel, but he was the best we'd got.

It was about three days after that, and we were taking a brief break from training. I'd been practicing moving large objects, pushing and lifting increasingly heavier pieces of junk around the yard for a couple of hours. Dean meanwhile had been sparring with Castiel. He'd determined that he could use his psychic energy to enhance his speed, strength, and reflexes as well as his healing, to the point where the seraph barely needed to hold back. Cas had just gone back to the house after we'd told him we needed a breather.

Dean, wearing nothing more than a pair of black _shitabaki_ , ambled over to where I was sitting on an old bench we'd dragged over earlier. He dropped onto my lap, his knees straddling my hips, and pulled off my shirt. I immediately put my hands on his narrow waist.

"Dude, I really _am_ Batman!" he crowed gleefully.

"I thought Batman didn't have any physical superpowers?"

"You are _so_ missing the point, Sam."

"Mmm. I might be a bit distracted here," I said, eyeing his sweat-sheened chest.

My brother grinned as I bent my neck and licked a line along the freckles on his shoulder. He tugged my head up to kiss me ardently, then dropped his own head back as I nibbled and sucked my way down his neck and chest to attack his nipples. He gasped and fisted his hands in my hair, while I slid my hands under his waistband to grasp his firm ass.

There was a sudden clatter of footsteps. "Hey guys, Bobby wanted to know—what the _hell_?"

We both lifted our heads and looked at Adam's horrified expression. Dean slid off my lap and got to his feet, and I stood as well.

Before either of us could say anything, our half-brother continued, "You—you two are _fags_? And with _each other_? I mean, I'd noticed before that you seemed too touchy-feely, but I figured it was just an odd side effect of your shitty upbringing. Not that you were actually fucking each other up the ass! That's just _sick_!"

Dean took a step forward. "Calm down, man, and let us expl—"

Adam's face twisted in anger and disgust. "Explain _what_? I don't care how you try to spin it, homosexuality is wrong and unnatural! No guy should be sticking his dick in another guy's shithole! The Bible's pretty damn clear about that!

"And you two are _brothers_! Not even the most fucked-up childhood makes acting like the damn Lannister twins okay!" His eyes widened. "Oh God, you aren't expecting _me_ to join in this disgusting shit?"

I gaped at that. Dean and I had never tried to downplay the fraternal part of our relationship, to the point of still referring to each other as "brother" even when making love. We were _everything_ to one another, and our familial bond was a huge part of that. But neither of us would consider Adam or anyone else in our chosen family as a romantic partner!

Dean moved closer to the younger man. "You stop that shit! What Sammy and I have is special, not some nasty _Deliverance_ thing! And get off your damn high horse! All that porn of hot chicks taking it up the ass or banging each other you've left in the browsing history on my laptop makes you look like a fucking hypocrite!"

"You don't get to judge me, _freak_! How old was Sam when you started bad-touching him? Or spreading your legs for him, since it looks like you were the one about to play catcher just now? Do Bobby and the others know you're a fucking _pansy_? Was that rape story even true, or were you just _asking_ for it?" Adam sneered as he reached out and grabbed Dean by the upper arm.

My older brother froze and went pale. My vision in turn went red, both at the unwanted contact and the accusation that the trauma Dean had gone through was in _any_ way deserved. I strode toward the two of them and quickly but carefully pulled my lover away. I then turned to Adam and punched him hard in the face, knocking him down. I felt a surge of satisfaction when I heard his nose crack under the blow.

"Don't you _ever_ touch him or talk to him like that again!" I roared. "Dean saved your goddamn life and has done nothing but treat you well! He's a better man than you could ever _hope_ to be! You fucking apologize to him, or—"

The younger man staggered to his feet, blood pouring from his nose. "Or _what_ , you homo cocksucker? You'll beat the shit outta me? You've been trying to tell me what to do since I've been back, trying to tell me what to believe, what _you_ say is right or wrong. Well, you can _shove_ all that up your fucking ass! I'm not staying around you goddamn perverts!" He ran, dashing around the piles of junk away from the house.

I swore and ran after him. No matter how any of us felt right now, we couldn't let Adam go off by himself. There were too many forces that would hurt him to get to us if he left the safety of the salvage yard. I began searching through the winding paths around the heaps of old metal. Behind me, I heard my older brother shouting for Castiel.

Dean caught up to me near the gate, looking grim. "It's too damn late, man. Bobby's Chevelle is missing from behind the house. I sent Cas after him. Told him to take the kid to Rufus' old cabin in Montana to cool down. From what Bobby said, the place is protected almost as well as here, and Cas can fix whatever wards that're missing. Maybe talk some sense into the goddamn moron too. Stupid fucking punk!"

"We knew something like this was going to happen sooner or later. It'd be too good to be true for _everyone_ to accept us being together," I pointed out. "It sucks that our brother turned out to be a homophobic douchebag, but the important thing is making sure he's safe."

"Which is why this is a _really_ fucking dumb time for him to run off, no matter how pissed he is!" Dean spat.

"We've just have to wait to hear back from Cas." I put a hand on his shoulder. _Are you okay?_

 _I'm fine, Sammy. I ain't taking any of the fucking garbage he spewed seriously, no more than any of the other narrow-minded fucktards we've run into before._ He rubbed his face irritably. "Come on, we need to let Bobby know what just happened."

We hurried inside and found Bobby in the kitchen. Dean immediately announced, "We got a fucking problem, Bobby. Adam just caught us making out and went postal. Spouted a buncha hate speech and tried to grab me, then ran after Sam socked him on the nose. We tried to catch him, but he took off in your old car. I sent Cas to find him and bring him to Rufus' cabin to defuse."

"Balls! This is a bigger problem than you boys realize," Bobby said agitatedly. "In Chuck's version of events, Michael ends up using Adam as his angel condom for the big showdown, after realizing he can't force you to consent. Guess he decided the consolation prize is better than nothing. So if the angels get their hands on the kid and torture him into agreeing—or if the idjit says yes just to spite you—then we're one step closer to fucking Armageddon!"

I saw my brother's stricken expression and took his face in my hands. "Don't! This is _not_ your fault! If anything happens, it's on Adam's head, not yours! He may be young, but he's more than old enough to understand the consequences of his actions. Being upset at us doesn't mitigate his responsibility. If he was cognizant enough to hotwire Bobby's car, then he knew _exactly_ what he was doing and the risks he was taking.

"And if Michael does get his hands on him, there's nothing you can do about it, Dee. We know how ruthless the angels can be to get what they want. Your resistance so far is a _good_ thing—the situation will be much worse for _everyone_ , not just Adam, if the archangel gets you instead!"

Dean relaxed under my touch. "Okay, Sammy. I'm gonna call Cas and find out what's going on."

"I'll call Adam's phone. Maybe he'll pick up for me," Bobby put in as he moved over to the bank of telephones on the wall.

I pulled out my phone and decided to call Crowley. I dialed six-six-six and waited.

"Hullo, Moose. How's tricks?"

"Crowley. Did you deliver the message, and did you get a response?" I asked.

"Yes and yes. The sniveling worm I've been dealing with told me Lucifer has agreed to the terms of your meeting. Mentioned that the old boy isn't doing so well—his current meat suit is falling apart, and that's curtailing how much havoc he can cause." Crowley sounded pleased.

"That's great news, man! Can you keep us informed if your contacts tell you anything else?"

"Of course. We're in the trenches together until Satan's back where he belongs. Tah now!" The demon hung up.

Both Bobby and Dean looked worried. Bobby said, "Our calls went to voicemail. Hopefully Castiel just is busy knocking some sense into Adam's fool head, but there's no way to know for sure. Don't suppose your new bag of tricks includes teleportation, Sam?"

I shook my head. "Sorry, nothing like that. And I'm still not familiar enough with my telepathy to contact someone I haven't 'talked' to before when I don't know where they are. We're going have to wait on Cas.

"I do have _some_ good news though. I just talked to Crowley, and it sounds like Lucifer's taken the bait. He should show up when and where we want him to. It also appears that his vessel is failing, so he's at reduced power as a result."

"I guess we gotta hope that Old Scratch ain't gonna risk fighting his big bro in his current condition. So even if Michael takes Adam, the endgame still won't happen if Lucifer don't have Sam." Dean shrugged.

"Not only that, but this could really work in _our_ favor. If Lucifer's not running at full capacity, then he might have a harder time detecting you or resisting Sam," Bobby pointed out.

We returned to our practice, though our concentration was shot. Dean tried calling Cas several more times, both by phone and prayer, without a response. We eventually gave up on any pretense of training and returned to the house. Dean busied himself with dinner preparations, while I distracted myself with busy work in the study.

We all were watching the end of a baseball game on TV several hours later when the angel suddenly appeared. He was a mess—filthy, tie askew, shirt and coat torn, eyes bloodshot, hair completely disheveled. He staggered and almost fell.

I jumped up and caught him, then led him over to the couch. Dean hurried into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and a wet towel. We waited until Cas had drunk and wiped his face clean.

The moment he set the glass and towel down, Dean exclaimed, "What the hell happened, dude? We've been worrying for hours!"

"I am sorry, Dean, but I failed. I did manage to find your brother and transported him and the car to the cabin as you requested. I attempted to reason with him, to explain both that the Bible is flawed and that your union is sanctioned, but he was simply too enraged. When I gave him a few moments' privacy to, err, use the facilities, he drew an angel-banishing sigil on the wall. I crash-landed in a cornfield somewhere in Oklahoma. I was not in as bad condition as after Van Nuys, but it still took some time to regain enough energy to return here." Castiel looked miserable.

Dean awkwardly patted his shoulder. "It's okay, buddy. You tried your best. We need to check on Adam though. How soon before you'll have the juice to take us back to the cabin?"

"I am afraid it will be several hours. It took all I had left to come here."

"What about a scrying spell?" I asked, looking at Bobby. "We can see if he's still at the cabin or if he's moved."

"Good idea, boy! I think I've got something that'll work. You two follow me. Cas, you stay here on the couch until you feel steadier." Bobby wheeled himself over to the study with the two of us in tow.

Following his directions, we drew symbols on the desk around four candles and a glass bowl filled with water. We lit the candles, and Bobby began chanting in Latin. The candles flared, and the water's surface became glossy and mirror-like. We could make out the interior of a rustic one-room cabin. The view panned around the main room before moving into the tiny bathroom and then down into a cluttered basement. There was no sign of anyone anywhere inside. The view pulled out to the exterior of the cabin, where we could see the Chevelle but not a single person.

"Try to focus the spell on Adam instead of the cabin," I suggested.

Bobby concentrated, and the scene in the bowl whirled. It suddenly blazed blindingly bright, and we all threw up our hands to shield our eyes. When the light died down, we could see that the bowl was melted and cracked, spilling water onto the desk, and the candles were nothing but puddles of wax. We quickly grabbed towels to sop up the mess.

" _Sonofabitch!_ " Dean swore. "That's gotta mean that Michael's got him. Poor dumb kid!"

"This doesn't change our plans," I said. "We take on Lucifer tomorrow night while he's weakened, and we lock him up. Once he's gone, there'll be no reason for Michael to remain on Earth. We'll try to convince him to let Adam go and figure things out from there."

After disposing of the rest of the ritual components and getting Cas cleaned up and settled in the other guest bedroom, we retreated to our room. We both were subdued after the abrupt loss of our half-brother, particularly so close to the upcoming confrontation with the Devil. Dean went to take his customary nightly shower, while I quickly washed up and undressed. I sat up in the bed and continued reading _The Gathering Storm_.

My brother seemed in a better mood when he came back. He dropped the towel from around his waist onto the foot of the bed and fluidly crawled up the bed until he was crouched over my stretched-out legs. He sat on my thighs, pulled the book out of my hands, and tossed it onto the nightstand. He then folded his arms on my chest, rested his chin on his forearms, and blinked through his long lashes up at me.

I looked into his wide green eyes in amusement. "Can I help you with something, dude?"

"This could be our last night together, you know. Think you might wanna do something more interesting than read?" He gave me a sultry look.

I laughed softly. "I guess I can think of a few things . . ."

He stretched up to kiss me slowly. _Love you so much, Sammy. I know I don't say it often enough, but—_

 _You don't have to say anything, Dee. You show how much you love me all the time. And now I can_ feel _it too._ As I kissed him back, I licked his full lips open and slid my tongue past them. _But it's certainly nice when you_ do _say it._

We exchanged several more deep, passionate kisses, our breathing quickening. Dean mouthed along the line of my jaw and ran his tongue around the shell of my ear before nibbling on the lobe. I tilted my neck to one side as his lips wandered down to the juncture between neck and shoulder, where he proceeded to suck.

 _Ahh, you love that spot, don't you? Love leaving your mark on me there,_ I whispered as my hands rubbed up and down his muscular back.

We were both hard and dripping by this point, and how he was sitting on me placed his cock almost on top of mine. I reached a hand down and wrapped it around our shafts. I'd only gotten a couple of strokes off though, before he put a hand over mine to stop it.

 _Wait, Sammy. I don't wanna rush tonight. And . . . and I don't want either of us cumming unless you're inside of me._

 _God, I'd love that too, but . . . are you_ sure _? This isn't some "last night on earth" thing, is it?_

He sat up and met my eyes. _No! I think I'm ready. We've made love just about every other way the past few weeks, and no bad shit's happened—no freak-outs or flashbacks or anything. I wanna do this. I_ miss _it, miss how awesome you feel inside me . . ._

He stroked my shoulders, his thumbs caressing my collarbones, as he continued. _I ain't considering one of us not making it. Like I said, I got plans for both of us after this! But . . . this is gonna be the biggest thing we've ever done. So I wanna make some good memories tonight, something to keep us going if things start to go pear-shaped tomorrow. You get what I'm saying?_

I moved my hands to his lean hips and squeezed gently. _I do, Dee. We'll do things your way tonight._

Dean lightly scratched his nails down my torso and then firmly rubbed his hands back up to my pecs, where he circled and then softly tweaked my nipples. He bent down to lap at each tip before taking the small nub into his mouth and sucking. As he alternated between my nipples, I massaged the muscles in his back, starting at his nape and working down until I was kneading the round globes of his ass.

He next kissed his way down my abdomen while running his hands up my inner thighs. Hands and mouth met at my groin, where he wrapped his fingers around my testicles and licked up and down my shaft. Meanwhile I slid a finger down his crack and slipped it into his hole, past the taut outer ring of muscle and into the wet heat of his passage. I moved the finger in and out a few times before adding a second and then a third.

Once my cock was shiny with spit, my lover placed his hands on my shoulders and positioned himself above the head, and I quickly removed my fingers. He slowly sank down, and we both gasped as my flared glans breached his entrance and pushed into his snug, silken channel. He kept going until I was fully seated inside him and then paused for a moment, gently squeezing around me.

 _How are you doing, Dee?_ I asked while fondling his buttocks.

Real _fucking good, man! I almost forgot how amazing your cock feels in me!_

His long lashes fluttered as his eyes closed and the freckled skin over his high cheekbones flushed as he began lifting up and sinking down on my member, the strong muscles of his thighs flexing with each movement. I took a firm grip on his hips and thrust up into him each time he came down. We panted loudly almost in unison as we moved together.

This was the first time we'd remained linked mentally while being intimate, and the experience was _incredible_. In addition to the always intoxicating sensations of being inside my brother—the slick warmth of his passage, the velvety texture of his inner membranes, the tightness of his muscles enveloping me—I could feel _his_ pleasure as my cock stretched and filled him, sending sparks up his nerves as it rubbed against his prostate and anus. Beyond the physical, there were all the emotions coursing through him—desire, joy, determination, and above all, so much love, burning bright and strong and without reservations.

 _Oh God, Sammy! I can't even describe . . . I can feel_ everything _about you!_ I could see tears trickling down his cheeks as his green eyes opened and looked into mine, but there was no sadness, only happiness and awe mirroring my own.

 _I know, I can feel you too. It's—it's the most wondrous thing I've ever experienced!_ I replied as I kissed him fervently.

He started riding me vigorously, shoving up and almost slamming down and clenching around me. He shook his head when I reached for his member, so I grasped his waist tightly and helped him push up and down on my length. My orgasm approached at breakneck speed, but I managed to hold back long enough until he cried out and clamped down on me, his cock spurting onto my stomach, before ejaculating inside him with a shout.

Dean chuckled weakly. _Dude, Bobby is gonna kick our asses! That was_ not _quiet!_

Instead of replying, I rolled us over until he was on his back. I may have thought being inside my lover was addictive before, but that was _nothing_ compared to now, and I wasn't stopping after only one round. I pushed his legs up until they wrapped around my waist and began thrusting into his still-quivering channel. I watched as he bit his lush lower lip and rolled his eyes back in pleasure.

 _Fuck, Sam, don't stop doing that!_ he moaned.

I sped up my pace, making sure to hit his sweet spot with every stroke. He rocked his hips and flexed his inner walls in time with my thrusts, his breath hitching each time his prostate was stimulated. I concentrated on the gliding motion of my cock in and out of his moist passage and the feeling of the head catching on the rim when I pulled out almost all the way. It wasn't long before he shuddered and tightened on me as he climaxed.

I continued plunging into him briskly, driving further into his hot depths. He keened at the overload of sensation but kept rolling his hips, allowing me to push deeper inside. I pulled his pelvis up and leaned forward until he was nearly bent in half, his knees resting on my shoulders. I thrust even harder until he bit down on his hand and shook through another orgasm, then let go and pulsed in his tight channel. I caught my breath for a minute before pulling out and turning my brother over onto his belly.

Dean raised his head and attempted to glare at me with blissed-out eyes. "Come on, man! Lemme have a couple minutes' break first!"

"Nope! I haven't been in you for over two months, and I intend to make up for it. I'm not stopping tonight until you can't walk right," I told him.

He dropped his head and moaned into the pillow, but his libido obviously perked up at the idea. He got his knees under his body and raised his ass in the air. I looked at his pink, swollen hole and the cum dripping out of it. He gasped as I licked all traces of my semen from his entrance, perineum, and inner thighs.

I grasped the base of my stiff cock and pushed back inside my brother. I held still until I felt him relax around me, then began rolling my hips against his without pulling out. As he sighed in pleasure and pushed back, I started to increase the length of my strokes steadily without increasing the speed. Soon enough I was reveling in sinking into his heated passage all the way to the base of my cock, while he rocked and clenched rhythmically around me. One of the many reasons I loved making love to Dean was how easily he took my full length, unlike many of my previous partners.

After we both came several minutes later, I pulled out with the instruction to stay still. I got up, went over to my bag, and fished the leather cock ring out of an inside pocket. I fastened it around the base of my member before climbing back on the bed.

 _You are an evil bastard,_ Dean proclaimed, recognizing the sound of the cock ring being snapped into place. He didn't shift from his position, however.

 _The bottom doth protest too much, methinks,_ I replied as I moved up behind him. _You know you love this!_

I slid back in easily, his inner walls still slick with my cum and his own fluids. I immediately started pounding into him hard and fast, holding onto his hips hard enough to bruise. He swore hoarsely as he braced his hands against the headboard and rocked back against my thrusts forcefully. The bed was soon shaking, the headboard banging against the wall.

I hammered him through two more climaxes until he was whining from almost painful overstimulation. As he quivered through one last orgasm, I yanked off the cock ring and came so hard I passed out. When I regained consciousness moments later, I was still buried inside my lover, but we were both lying limply on the bed and panting heavily.

I threw an arm over him and tugged him against my chest. _Are you okay, Dee?_

 _I think you broke my brain there, Ron Jeremy!_ Dean complained, though his satiated purr belied his words. _My ass, on the other hand, wants to put your monster cock on a pedestal._

I snickered at that image. _Well, you wanted tonight to be memorable!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Bobby gave both of us sour looks when we came downstairs the following morning. "Did I or did I not tell you morons to make sure I _never_ saw or heard anything that ain't PG-rated? I'm glad I didn't get the full effect down here, but I don't wanna know what kinda earful poor Cas here got last night!"

I blushed and hid behind my hair, while Dean mumbled a red-faced apology.

Cas meanwhile looked at all of us curiously. "I do not understand the shameful connotations humans seem to apply to sexual behavior. I thought that Sam and Dean's liaison is a beneficial thing that we all approve of, and that carnal relations are a natural and desirable outcome to such a bond?"

"Dude, I ain't gonna touch that one! I'm just gonna make breakfast," my brother declared as he moved to the refrigerator, leaving me to attempt to explain sexual mores to the confused angel.

We left Sioux Falls shortly after lunch and pulled up on the outskirts of Lawrence about six hours later. We took the Impala to conserve Castiel's energy, rather than have him teleport us there. We had to wait until nightfall to proceed, so we got dinner at a steakhouse and booked two rooms at a nearby motel.

As soon as it was sufficiently dark outside, we drove to Stull. We had less than three hours to prepare the site before Lucifer's arrival. The first thing we did was ward the perimeter of the cemetery; although we weren't able to surround it in salt and holy oil, there were other ways to protect it. Bobby cast a blessing ritual on the iron fence bordering the graveyard, while Dean and I drew sigils of various kinds in chalk on as many tombstones, rocks, and trees as possible. Cas kept a watch out for the police and other mundane intruders.

Once the rest of the cemetery was as protected as we could manage, we turned our attention to the ruined chapel. Dean and I poured as large a ring of salt and holy oil around it as we could, while Bobby drew more protective symbols on the ruins themselves. The seraph remained on guard.

I had just finished pouring the last of the oil when my phone vibrated. I pulled it out and saw Crowley on the caller ID. I thumbed Answer.

"Hullo again, Moose. I'm just outside the gates to this charming place. Fancy letting me in? Don't want to disturb the protections you've undoubtedly laid down."

"What are you doing here, Crowley? Do you have information for us?"

"No new information on the Adversary, sadly. But I did think of something that might come in handy for the upcoming showdown."

After relaying the information to the others, Cas said, "I will bring him here." He disappeared with a flutter.

When he and Crowley reappeared moments later, the demon looked almost queasy. "Well, _that_ was unpleasant! Hello, boys."

"Save the chitchat, dude," Dean said irritably as he stuffed the empty bags of rock salt into a pile of rubble. "We're in a fucking crunch, in case you ain't noticed."

"I certainly don't plan to stay long—I'm a lover, not a fighter," Crowley responded. "As I told Gigantor here, I came across something that should prove highly useful. Doubt that Feathers has ever heard of it—I believe it's above his paygrade.

"It's called an angel-suppressing sigil. It's normally used to hobble an angel inside a host and temporarily return control to the original owner. It was used in the past by family and friends to convince the poor sap that being an angel's meat popsicle is an unwise choice.

"In Lucifer's case, his vessel is practically a zombie now. Poor Nick shuffled off this mortal coil a while back and presumably is reunited with his loving family upstairs. But the effect should still be the same—the sigil should impair Lucifer even further for a short period of time. It won't last long—he's still a bloody archangel, even in this condition."

"No, no, that's still good. Even a minute or two could be enough to push him into the Cage," I said gratefully. "How does it work?"

"Wise decision." Crowley gestured, and there was a brief flare as a large circle with Enochian writing was burned into the ground and a similar but smaller symbol onto a short piece of wall.

He continued, "The smaller one is the activation symbol. A bit of blood will set it off. Once the large one lights up, make sure to do what you need _quickly_. By the way, would you like me to leave Juliette here? I wouldn't set her against Old Scratch, but she can take care of trespassers for you."

Dean shuddered. "Thanks but no thanks. We got shit in place to take care of any other winged or black-eyed dicks that try to show up, and we don't need the damn thing eating some poor old lady coming to visit her husband's grave."

I looked around. "Okay, I think the area is as ready as it's going to get. Now it's Dean's turn. Come on, man."

I grabbed a small bag, and the two of us went off behind a taller piece of wall. Dean stripped quickly and stood naked momentarily, pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, before his form shimmered. He raised his head, and I suddenly found myself looking at my own face.

He'd practiced taking my shape a few times over the past week, but it was _still_ disconcerting. I handed him a change of my clothing from the bag and stuffed his clothes in the same bag as he dressed. I then handed him my shoes and jacket.

My brother looked down at himself once everything was on. "How do I look?"

I smoothed down his hair. "This is still _so_ weird!"

"Hey, imagine how it feels on my end! Freckle fetish? Really, dude?" He grinned at me.

"Shuddup!" I elbowed him in the ribs as we walked back to the others.

Bobby's eyebrows almost disappeared into the brim of his trucker's hat. "I ain't ever gonna get used to this! So which one of you is actually Sam, and which one is Dean?"

"This is obviously Dean. It is not difficult to see the difference," Castiel said, pointing to my brother.

"Maybe for an angel, which I ain't! Anyways, Crowley's already skedaddled, and Satan's due to show in less than ten minutes. You boys ready?"

"As we're ever gonna be. Now you two need to get outta here. Wait by Baby and make sure no one else tries to come in," Dean replied.

"What? Hell no! We ain't leaving you here to face the goddamn Devil alone!" The older hunter looked incensed.

"I must agree with Bobby. Once the holy oil is lit, I will not be able to come to your aid if you need it," Cas added. "It would be better if we remain nearby within the circle. I can conceal the two of us."

"This isn't the time or place for disagreements. Everyone needs to get into place _now_ ," I said. As Dean turned to move, I caught his hand. "You be careful, jerk."

"You too, bitch." He gave me a quick kiss.

Bobby and the angel moved out of sight. I found a hiding place near the activation sigil and put up my strongest mental shields. I painted the symbols for a stronger version of the "notice-me-not" spell we'd used at Niveus onto my forearms and also activated what Dean called my Jedi mind-trick. Both should have the effect of forcing onlookers' eyes to skip over me. Dean waited in plain sight in the center of the ruins.

It was perhaps fifteen minutes later that I saw Dean straighten from where he was leaning against a heap of stone debris. Moments after, I heard footsteps leisurely approaching the church. The presence accompanying the steps was immense.

I didn't have a clear line of sight as the archangel came into view, but I could see him via my brother's thoughts. As Crowley's contact had said, Lucifer looked _bad_. His vessel's skin was corpse-pale except for the bloody, seeping sores, his eyes were sunken and feverish, and his hair was dull and sparse. There was a definite lurch in what was supposed to be a confident swagger, as if his joints no longer functioned properly.

"Hey Sam. You're looking well," the Devil said pleasantly as he got within a few feet of my brother.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same. Your meat suit looks like it died two weeks ago," Dean replied with distaste.

Lucifer shrugged. "Cost of not using my true vessel—this one can't handle the extra mileage. Same thing's going to happen to your little brother if Michael keeps him too long. I'm sure you know that."

"None of us are happy about it, but there's not much we can do about it." My brother swiftly flicked his fingers, and the ring of holy oil caught fire.

Lucifer started and then looked amused. "Trust issues, Sam? Do you _really_ expect this to hold me? Or the other wards you've put around this place? I'm giving you props for the choice of location—it's certainly poetic. But you can't expect me to not notice your little scribbles."

"They're not for you. I'm well aware the protections won't do much against something on your level," Dean replied. "But I want to keep this conversation private—no one else on your team or Michael's eavesdropping or interfering."

"Well, I've got to say, I _was_ surprised to hear from you. You've been fighting against your destiny for so long, and now this? Does big brother know you're here?"

"I'm a grown-ass man—I don't need my brother's permission to live my life," Dean said irritably. He backed up a few steps, trying to lure the other into the suppression sigil. "But no—Dean would kick my ass if he thought I was seriously considering saying yes."

"Is that why we're here?" Old Scratch moved closer but maddeningly stopped just on the edge of the symbol.

"I'm thinking about it. Look, Judgement Day is a runaway train—I get that now. I want to get off before anyone else I care about gets hurt. But _if_ I do this, you've got to promise a few things first. My family stays safe during the confrontation and after, regardless of who wins. That includes Bobby and Castiel, in addition to Dean and me. _And_ you bring back my parents." Dean crossed his arms and looked determined.

"What happens if I don't win? How do you expect me to hold up my end of this bargain?"

"We know you're going to have the advantage in the fight if I do this. Adam isn't Michael's true vessel, so he won't have access to his full power. You will. You don't need to be a genius to figure how _that_ will play out."

Lucifer smirked. "And that doesn't bother you anymore? Letting the bad guy win, all the innocent lives that'll be lost? What happened to the old family business?"

My brother hesitated before responding. "I don't like it, but I'm tired of fighting. I _never_ wanted any of this—I'm sure you're aware of that. And I'll do just about _anything_ to keep my brother safe. You also know how important he is to me. So you protect him, and you let me go after, and I'll—"

The archangel sighed. "Okay, can we _please_ drop the telenovela? I know you have the rings, Sam."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, man."

"The Horsemen's rings? The magic key to my Cage? Ring a bell? Come on, Sam. I've never lied to you. You could at least pay me the same respect."

Dean backed away a little further. "I don't have the rings, and neither does Dean. That's the God's honest truth. I'm sure you can tell if I'm lying."

We'd previously decided that it would be safest if Dean avoided outright falsehoods as much as possible, to lessen the chances that Satan would try to read his thoughts too deeply and discover something he shouldn't. I had to admire how carefully my brother used the literal truth. It certainly seemed to be working so far.

The Devil raised a skeptical brow. "Really? It's okay. I'm not mad. A wrestling match inside your noggin . . . I like the idea. Just you and me, one round, no tricks. You win, you jump in the hole and take me with you. I win . . . well, then I _win_. So what do you say? A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you."

Before Dean could reply, there was a sudden surge of power and the loud sound of wings flapping. Adam appeared just outside the ring of fire and salt, but it was obvious from the look in his eyes and the aura emanating from him that our half-brother was no longer in control.

"Are you truly falling for this paltry trick?" he asked contemptuously.

Lucifer turned to face the other archangel. "It's good to see you, Michael. It's been too long, hasn't it? I knew you'd try to find me sooner or later, now that you've found a vessel—even if it isn't _the_ vessel. But if you'll excuse me, you're interrupting an important discussion."

Michael snorted scornfully. "Lucifer, really. Are you _so_ limited now by your failing vessel that you do not realize that the creature in front of you is not Sam Winchester?"

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

"That thing you are talking to is _not_ who you think it is. It is not even _human_. And you cannot even tell the difference! How the mighty have fallen, little brother," Michael sneered.

Lucifer turned back to my brother, who grinned cockily at him. Dean's form rippled again and reverted to his own shape.

"Welcome to the party, pal! Gabe was right 'bout you—you're a great big bag of dicks," Dean taunted. "Dude spent millennia trying to keep the peace between you fucknuts upstairs—which I can relate to—and then went into hiding when he couldn't handle it no more. He finally gets the guts to stand up to you, and you gank your own little brother for disagreeing with you. That's _cold_ , man!"

The fallen angel's face darkened in anger at the shift and even more at the insulting words. He started to raise his hand, and I prepared to raise a physical shield around the other hunter.

"Hey, ass-butt!"

Everyone turned as Castiel and Bobby showed up behind Lucifer with a soft rustle. Cas held up a glass bottle of oil with a burning rag stuffed into the mouth, and he immediately threw it at Michael's feet. The archangel screamed as the bottle shattered and engulfed him in flames. He disappeared moments later.

Lucifer looked even more furious. "Castiel, did you just _Molotov_ my brother with holy fire?"

Cas gazed back defiantly. "Yes, and I would gladly do it again. You may be my elder brothers, but I will _not_ permit you to destroy the Earth in your pointless squabble. The holy oil will not dissuade Michael for long, but it _will_ be long enough to deal with you."

"Who exactly do you think you are? _No one_ dicks with Michael but me!"

The Devil snapped his fingers, and the seraph exploded in a rain of blood and tiny bits of flesh. Dean and I both flinched as Lucifer and Bobby were sprayed with the chunky red mist.

The older hunter seemed unshaken, however, as he raised his shotgun from his lap. He shot the archangel in the chest, and the force of the unexpected blast staggered Lucifer back a step. Bobby fired once more, knocking him backward again, right into the center of the angel-dampening sigil.

Lucifer straightened and made a twisting motion with his hand. Bobby's head jerked violently to the side with an audible snap, and he slumped in his wheelchair. Dean cried out in anguish as our surrogate father slowly toppled to the ground. I desperately wanted to join my brother in mourning, but instead I quickly cut my palm and pressed it to the activation symbol on the wall above my hiding place.

Satan glanced down in surprise as the inhibition symbol under his feet flared to life with a fiery glow, and then he reeled as he felt the sigil's effects. He snarled, "What have you maggots done to me?"

Dean smirked through his tears. "It's an angel-suppression sigil, cocksucker. It's supposed to kick you feathery bastards outta the driver's seat, give the rightful owner a chance to evict you. In your case, that poor sucker's left the building already, but we figured it'll still fuck you up."

"You think you're pretty smart, huh? This thing may have weakened me some, but I'm still the goddamn Morningstar!" Lucifer lifted his hand once more, and several large pieces of broken stone flew towards my brother.

I swiftly interposed a barely-visible energy shield between Dean and the Devil, and the rocks bounced off harmlessly. I then stood, dropping the concealments on myself, and walked over to my brother. I put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly, before looking at the fallen angel.

"Give it up, Lucifer. You're never going to beat us, because unlike you angels, my brother and I put each other before our pride, anger, self-righteousness, and the rest of that crap," I said calmly as I pulled the Horsemen's rings out of my pockets.

Dean added, "You dumbasses are so obsessed with following your fucking lines like a buncha goddamn lemmings, and you expect us to turn on each other just 'cause _you_ did. What you sonsofbitches need to learn is that there ain't no fate but what we make for ourselves. We're Team Free Will, and we're ending this damn story _our_ way. Show 'em, Sammy."

I brought the four rings together on my palm, where they interconnected with a noisy clink. I tossed the key, using my telekinesis to guide it to land on the stone floor behind Lucifer, just outside the dampening sigil. I then chanted, " _Bvtmon tabages babalon_."

The Devil's eyes widened as a gaping hole opened up underneath the key and began sucking in the air around it. I grasped my power as tightly as I could and _pushed_. It was like shoving at an enormous wall, and sweat broke out on my forehead as I drew upon more of my energy.

Lucifer looked astounded as his body inched backwards. He tried to take a step forward and said, "Let's not be hasty now, Sammy. There's _so_ much more I can do for you besides protecting your family. Riches, power, women—you name it!"

I gritted my teeth at the effort as I spoke. "It's _Sam_ , asshat. And you don't know anything about me if you think _that_ is going to tempt me to let you go."

Old Scratch's eyes narrowed as he braced himself, and the wall started to push back. I groaned at the strain, and then I felt my brother link his mind securely with mine. I reached toward him and pulled in his strength, and we watched as our opponent was inexorably pressed closer to the opening.

Michael abruptly reappeared outside the ring of holy fire and shouted, "It is _not_ going to end this way! I _have_ to fight my brother—it is my destiny!"

 _I'll take care of this, Sam. You keep shoving this asshole back in his box,_ Dean told me as he disengaged his abilities from mine. He dashed around Lucifer and the gate to the Cage, leapt over the fire, and barreled into Michael with a cry of, "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!"

I knew I had to hurry. Even with his enhanced strength and speed, and Michael being hampered by a lesser vessel, my brother wouldn't last long against the archangel. In addition, the angel-suppressing sigil under Satan could fail at any moment. But without the additional energy from Dean, I wasn't strong enough to overpower the fallen angel, even in his weakened state.

Lucifer looked triumphant. "You can't do it, not all by your lonesome, can you? Give it up, Sam, and I'll be merciful. I won't hurt you, and I'll let Dean live too. Heck, I'll throw in Mommy and Daddy and this old drunk here for free!"

I ignored him and turned to the last gambit we'd prepared. In his arrogance, Lucifer had overlooked that not all the symbols we'd drawn in and around the chapel were protective. Hidden among the wards were runes designed to siphon some of the life-force around them and funnel that power to me. I activated those sigils, which in turn latched onto the trees and grass, insects and rodents, and other living creatures in the cemetery. The amount taken from each being was small, not enough to hurt them, but all those little packets of energy added up as I gathered them in.

Now almost thrumming with power, I stretched out my telekinesis and grabbed the Devil roughly. "You should've learned better by now than to underestimate me, douchebag. Now say goodnight, Gracie."

With that, I thrust Lucifer into the hole. As he fell with a rage-filled roar, I recited the second part of the spell, " _Chdr bvtmon tabages babalon_." The gate rapidly closed, and I picked the key up from the ground.

I immediately turned my attention to outside of the circle of holy fire. Dean was lying on the ground, unmoving, while Michael stood over him with a bloody fist raised. I hurriedly erected another protective barrier around my brother, then yanked the energy from the fire and used it to shove the archangel back.

I ran to Dean, dropped to my knees beside him, and pulled him into my lap. His face was bloody and swollen, one arm and several fingers were bent at unnatural angles, and his clothes were torn and soaked with blood in numerous spots. His breathing was faint and wheezy and his pulse thready and weak, but more importantly both were still there. I threw all the power not maintaining the energy shield over us into bolstering his healing ability.

Michael stomped over in a rage. "How _dare_ you interfere? This is _not_ how the Apocalypse is meant to end! It was _my_ destiny to defeat my brother and usher in a new Paradise! What gives you—you insignificant _cockroaches_ the right to stop that?"

As Dean started to stir, I looked up. "Give it up, man! It's _over_. We were never going to let you two duke it out like a pair of petulant toddlers having a tantrum because Daddy wasn't paying enough attention to you, which is all your so-called _destiny_ really was. Your fight would have destroyed half the planet, and it's _our_ home, not yours. _That's_ what gives us the right! We put our love first—for each other, for our family and friends, for everyone around us—and we won."

Michael's face turned purple, and he lifted a bloody hand. I braced the force field against his imminent attack, then had to cover my eyes as a bright light fell over the archangel from above. He turned his face up skyward and froze.

While the angel was otherwise occupied, I checked over my brother. _Dee? Dee?_

Dean groaned softly. _Fuck! Remind me to never do_ that _again! Did you do it, Sammy? Did you lock Satan up again?_

 _I did, and I couldn't have done it without you. But we've got to get out of here_ now _. Michael's still here, and he's_ pissed _. Can you move yet?_

He shook his head slightly. _I'm starting to heal, but I'm still in pretty bad shape. If you gotta leave me, do it. No need to let him take_ both _of us out._

 _No way! I'm_ not _letting it end like that! We just defeated the goddamn Devil, so we can figure out how to deal with fucking Michael too._ I wrapped my arms around him to show I wasn't leaving him.

Before Dean could argue, Michael turned to face us, the light still shining around him. "You are fortunate. My father commands me to return and leave you unharmed. He says this was partly his doing, in that he made you soulmates and gave you the strength and determination to forge your own way. He wanted an alternative to letting his sons kill each other."

Dean coughed to clear his throat. "If you're done here, let Adam go. You don't need him back in Heaven, and he deserves better than to be your fucking angel condom."

"Your half-brother is dead—he died when Castiel immolated me in holy fire. Just as Jimmy Novak died a year ago when Castiel was obliterated by Raphael for interfering with the prophet," Michael replied. "We angels can heal much damage to our vessels, but even _we_ cannot keep the host alive when the body is completely destroyed. I _could_ bring him back to life if you truly wish. But he is in Heaven with his mother now."

I looked down at my brother and sighed. "He's better off where he is. All he ever _really_ wanted was to be with his mom again. We can't take that from him."

The archangel nodded, and the light flared almost blindingly. Dean and I swore and covered our eyes again. When the light faded, Michael was gone. But standing in his place was Castiel, with the same rumpled hair and stubbled face but now wearing a clean, shorter trench coat and wrinkle-free suit.

Cas walked over to us, bent down, and touched Dean on the forehead. My brother gasped as his wounds disappeared, as did the blood on his face and clothes.

He staggered to his feet and looked at the seraph in shock. "Cas? You're _alive_!"

Cas smiled. "Hello, Dean. I am better than that, actually."

He then walked over to Bobby's body and crouched. He touched the corpse on the forehead, and Dean and I both gaped as Bobby took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Cas stood and helped Bobby get to his feet.

Bobby stared down at his legs with wide eyes. "Well, I'll be damned!"

I stood as well and stared at Cas in awe. "Cas, are—are you _God_?"

Castiel smiled again. "That is a nice compliment, but no. Although he did bring me back, new and improved."

Dean and I looked at each other, then we rushed forward and pulled the others into a giant group hug. We all laughed and cried and pounded each other on the back for several minutes (except for Cas, who stood stiffly in our embrace and awkwardly patted us on the shoulders).

After we finally broke apart, Dean wiped his face. "I dunno what to say! I didn't expect to see either of you again!"

"I'm certainly glad to be back!" Bobby exclaimed. "There was this sharp pain and the stereotypical white light, then I found myself in a goddamn waiting room of some kind. Suddenly this voice pronounced, 'This is not your time,' and POOF, here I am. Alive and _actually_ kicking! When I get home, I'm gonna spend a day just going up and down the damn stairs!"

"It's _awesome_ to see ya back on your feet, Bobby. It . . . it wouldn't have felt like a real win without you," Dean said earnestly.

I looked over at Castiel. "Is what Michael said about Adam true, Cas?"

The angel nodded. "I _am_ sorry, Sam, but I had no choice. I did not wish to harm your brother, but there was no other way to get rid of Michael and distract Lucifer. He _is_ happy where he is now, if that is any help."

"It's okay, man. I think we all understand. We knew there'd be losses in a fight like this." I gave him a squeeze on the shoulder.

I then pulled the key apart and put Death's ring back in my pocket, before handing the other three to Castiel. "We promised to return his ring to Death, but we need to ensure no one can ever use the rest to release Lucifer or summon the other Horsemen again. So Cas, can you drop each one into a different active volcano as soon as you get the chance?"

"Shades of Mount Doom—I like it, Sammy. Though maybe drop one down the deepest part of the Marianas Trench for variety," Dean added. "We got anything else we need to do here?"

Bobby glanced at Dean and me shrewdly. "Cas, why don't we walk over to the car? Let's give the boys a few minutes of alone-time before we all go back to the motel."

"Yes, I understand." Cas turned to face us. "The local police officers I had to put to sleep earlier should not wake up for another hour at least. That should give you ample time to fornicate, though I imagine your motel room would be more comfortable."

" _Cas!_ " we hissed in unison, our faces beet-red.

"Idjits!" Bobby laughed fondly as he led the seraph away.

After they moved out of sight, Dean cradled my face in his hands and pulled me down for a long kiss. He then rested his forehead against mine. _We did it, baby boy! We got our happy ending!_

I slid my arms around his waist and pressed him against me. _I know, I can barely believe it! What are we going to do next? Go to Disneyland like I suggested years ago?_

He stepped back and gazed at me seriously, taking my hands in his. _Listen, you know I ain't good at talking 'bout—'bout feelings and shit like that. We ain't been a—a couple for too long, but we've_ always _been the most important person in each other's lives. I didn't wanna say anything earlier, but now that this Apocalypse crap is_ finally _over . . . It's uh, time to change things up._

I looked at him in concern. _This isn't the "we should see other people" speech or something, is it?_

 _What?_ No! _Dammit, are you trying to kill the fucking mood or something?_ His expression was exasperated. _Just lemme get this out, okay?_

 _Sorry! Please, go ahead._

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his green eyes were full of love and hope and determination. He moistened his full lips with the tip of his tongue and then, still holding my hands, slowly sank down on one knee.

"Samuel Henry Winchester, will you marry me?"


End file.
